


See Me Differently, I Beg You

by GoodlynneGhastly



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: ABO, ABO dynamics, Adding a warning for the, Discussion of Abortion, Fluff and Angst, Geralt is Stubborn, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier in the wolf den, Jaskier's not human but I'm not spoiling it, M/M, Mpreg, No Smut, Omegaverse, Pining, Polyamory, Stillborn, Unplanned Pregnancy, jaskier is hurt, just in case, monster!jaskier, no smut just suggestive talk, roach is best horse, where's Roachs sugarcubes jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22351435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodlynneGhastly/pseuds/GoodlynneGhastly
Summary: Jaskier has been keeping his omega status under wraps for a good part of his life. But when his new muse discovers the truth he has some incredibly conflicting feelings on the matter. No smut.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 141
Kudos: 1342
Collections: Wasn't Quite Expecting This (But I Loved It)





	1. Blame the Thief

Jaskier didn't envision spending the early hours of the morning hunched over a rancid barrel, heaving his guts out. Yet again. For the third day in a row. He must be ill. Something he ate, likely. Some bad meat. That'd explain it all well enough. 

And it wasn't simply the morning that churned his stomach. It was the smells.

Used to be he could take a stroll through the market square without a care. Now he couldn't even pass by the shoemaker without upsetting his stomach. Which was a damned travesty. As the shop that sold spare lute strings was sat right beside it. 

It wasn't until he caught wind of a conversation that he began to suspect this wasn't an illness. Head still hanging over the barrel, he heard the pair's exchange. "Oh poor thing." Yes, yes. Poor Jaskier. "I couldn't stand the scent of shoe polish when I was carrying either." And his expression must have turned something sour, because her friend immediately hushed her.

His hands gripped the lip of the barrel. Blood frozen just as much as he. Until it began to rush. To his cheeks. To his ears. To the nape of his neck. Painting him red.

He stood up straight, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. It was only gossip. Nothing more. Jaskier only ate something rotten. That was all. What did those women know? He was only feeling ill is all. This would come to pass. But as he hurried through the square, errands long forgotten, That night came to mind. And it wouldn't leave him.

That night. When he and Geralt-

The thought of the Witcher left a taste more bitter than his own bile. After that damn quest with the dragon-after Geralt snapped at him-things hadn't been the same. Geralt hadn't been around the inn for weeks. And Jaskier hadn't even bothered talking to him the last he was. He ignored him completely, turning up his nose and away from the Witcher. If he wasn't there to apologize he didn't want to hear it. Even went as far as to parody his own song. Toss a Coin to Your Bitcher, O' Fucker O' Plenty. That got a good kick out of the drunkards.

Geralt made it plenty clear he didn't want anything to do with him anyhow.

What did Jaskier think was going to happen when he asked Geralt to help him out when his next heat arrived? Did he think nothing was going to come out of Geralt and his knot? He just had to know what it was like, spending a night with the Witcher. hadn't he? He wisdh to spend at least one night with his-well, his former friend he supposed. Greatest muse. With whom he had been so love struck. With whom he still was. Unfortunately.

It was all that damned cut purse's fault. 

\--  
It was only supposed to be a brief supply run. They were headed a little ways north and the wind was already beginning to bite. They needed the supplies. Jaskier kept a list and he planned to keep to it. He prided himself on being at least a smidge useful, though he was certain Geralt would have handled it all well enough on his own. The point he was making was that he didn't have to. Not as long as Jaskier was around.

"We still need to grab some food for the road." he mused, scratching off another item from his list. "Preferably something not as hard as a rock, thank you. So best leave that to me. Geralt." his eyes flicked up just enough to give the man in question a brief glare. Geralt only gave him a glance in return, busy packing Roach's saddlebags.

Jaskier should get himself a horse. Frankly he was tired of walking everywhere. On the plus side his legs have never looked better. Not that anyone who mattered knew. And the only one who mattered would prefer to shove his head up some foul mage's skirt-Jaskier refused to think about her. That woman. He wanted to be in a good mood today. Though he couldn't say the same about his traveling companion.

"We're going to be traveling for a good while. Here, you look for winter clothes. I'm going to haggle with the butcher." He tucked the list away, giving Geralt-and Roach-a pat on the side. Only one of them truly appreciated it. That would be the one he was going to sneak sugar cubes to later. He made his jaunty way across the street, lute strung across his back as always. He should grab some food for Roach as well while he was at it. Who knew if it was going to be snowing by the time they got there. 

Just more things to add to the list.

It was one busy day in the marketplace. Jaskier loved to witness the hustle and bustle. People milling about to and fro. Fathers hunting for bargains. Small children playing in the streets. All the scent and sounds. 

It was too much for a witcher like Geralt. Jaskier could tell crowds weren't his all time favorite. He didn't need heightened senses to tell that. This was precisely why he told him to do the clothes shopping instead of sending him down the street. The nearest shop to Geralt was but a few paces.

Someone knocked into his side, damn near throwing him off his feet. "Well, someone's in a hurry!" he scoffed, fixing himself just so. Years of experience and cautious tales told him to take inventory. Not every bump was just a bump. Cold hands went to his waist, freezing. He looked down, gawking at the cut string hanging limp from his belt. "Wh-hey! Stop! Thief-" he didn't know whether to be relieved that they stole the wrong pouch, or worried. His coin purse was well and fine. It was his pouch of herbs they had swiped. He wouldn't have been so concerned normally, but he had only brought so much with him on his trip. And his heat would be on him any day now. And what's worse? There wasn't a shop in sight that sold them here.

Oh, yes. His heat. Jaskier the Bard was not the simple beta he claimed himself to be. He was a fully fleshed omega. Believe him, since the day he presented he wanted nothing more for it to not be true. His family had went on and on about him being a late bloomer. About how he was going to shock them all. Of course, he did end up shocking them regardless. Male omegas weren't unheard of. They were... to the earl at least, an embarrassment. Which was why he was driven out with nothing more than his lute and the clothes on his back. And a pouch of coin his mother snuck him. He still wrote to her.

Jaskier didn't want to be driven off once more. No one could know he had those herbs.

He gave chase. Heart somehow pounding in his chest despite its current residence in his throat. 

"Stop that thief!" he belted out. 

Jaskier kept the thief in his sights, ducking around townsfolk and avoiding street clutter. He could catch them. They weren't that far ahead of him. Maybe just a few paces. Those herbs wouldn't even catch a good amount of coin! Most didn't even know what they were meant for. Those who did, well, he didn't want them to know he had them. 

The commotion caught Geralt's attention. How could it not? He could even see the bard giving chase from where he was standing. "Can't go one day without getting into trouble, can he?" he grumbled, collecting his purchase. No time to pack anything away. Jaskier could be in trouble, and if he was he'd never hear the end of it. He had to lay the parcels across Roach's back in a hurry. He trusted the horse to not let anyone steer too close.

He had a bard to catch. "Jaskier!"

The call of his name took his attention away for only a moment, but a moment was all it took for the bastard to lose him. "Dammit!" he cursed, slowing to a stop. Jaskier clenched his fists and doubled over, as if that would help him catch his breath. Walking was one thing. Running? He never wanted to run again. Ever since that encounter with the djin his lungs just never felt the same. 

"Jaskier-"

"Dammit, Geralt!" how could someone so big move so fast? "I almost had the spineless little-hey!" he shot up straight, cupping his hands around his mouth. "You hear me?! If I ever see your face I'll-I'll skin it!" He huffed, dragging a hand through his hair with the biggest scowl. He couldn't see it with his back turned to him, but Geralt's lips were twitching at the corners. Someone could dare to say he was smiling. "Can you believe some people, Geralt?"

"I could track them, get your coin back."

"Kind of you to offer, but they didn't make off with my coin." he pat the coin purse hanging from his side. And that's where he screwed himself. Knowing exactly the question that would be on Geralt's tongue he back pedaled, "It's not important. All in the past. Uh-yep." he dusted off his clothes, clearing his throat. "Dust in the wind now."

"Funny. It seemed pretty important, from how hard you were running." he couldn't quite place it, but something smelled... different about Jaskier. He wouldn't say 'off', because the bard has always smelled 'off', but now...

"Psh, no. Heaven's no. Just my ah," his boot kicked up a sizable pebble, eyes shining. "rock collection!" Rock collection.

Geralt took a pause, "Rock collection?"

"Rock collection." he swung his hands by his sides, lips mushed together. He'd dig this trench a little deeper. "I'll just have to start a new one, ah well. Darn." Jaskier didn't look too down about it, he knew that, so he put on a pout. "Good thing we're traveling! I can pick up all the pretty pebbles I want." he avoided the witcher's gaze, making his way off. Back to Roach.

He could feel Geralt's eyes on him the entire way. And he hoped no more questions would be asked.

It felt like there was a damn boulder in the pit of his stomach.

And wouldn't you damn well know it. His heat struck him three days into their trip. Hard. Not even the freezing wind whipping about outside the abandoned barn they found themselves in could calm the surge of heat radiating off him. He sat, trembling on the other side of their fire. Jaskier's thick coat should have been keeping him plenty warm. But he wasn't shivering from the cold.

And Geralt knew from the second he smelled him-despite all the cologne he doused himself in. And yet he didn't bring it up. It wasn't his place to. Why should he care that his companion was an omega? So long as Jaskier could carry his weight he didn't much care. It hadn't interfered with any quest up until now, and Geralt wasn't going to penalize him for something out of his control. They were going to need to wait out the storm anyhow. 

It wasn't until Jaskier started to move towards him that Geralt acknowledged what was obvious to them both. "Jaskier." he warned. He's had more than a handful of omegas try and have a go with him, he knew the tells.

It was like scolding a cat. Jaskier just looked up at him, eyes glassy, pupils wide, and his cheeks a rosy pink. The look lasted a beat before he moved again, bringing himself even closer. Slow and cautious. Geralt stiffened, giving him one more warning. But Jaskier was already sitting beside him.

And for the moment that looked to be all he wanted. Geralt almost relaxed. 

Until he started to whine, "Geralt-"

"No, Jaskier." he never, never, wanted to hear his name on Jaskier's lips when he was like this. If only it was for the effect it had on himself. Geralt was only thankful the bard wasn't trying to touch him. He wouldn't like to restrain the bard. Gag? Absolutely. That mouth was grating.

"Stop your whining. I can do this all night."

"What else can you do all night?" Jaskier purred, in a way Geralt had witnessed him do when hoping to charm someone's skirts off. He didn't know how he felt about it being used on himself.

He grunted, "Ignore you." 

Jaskier might be fed up with him for now, but he'd be thankful when his heat let up. Until then Geralt would keep the "poor damned thing" fed and comfortable. And if that meant he had to put up with the damned man plastering himself to his side and sniffing him-which wouldn't help him with his heat, he reminded-then so be it.

He ignored the pleading and the begging. Batted away the needy hands trying to guide his own to where Jaskier wanted them. At one point Geralt had to pin him down just so he could hold a cool cloth to the bard's forehead when he was burning up. He never thought he'd have to scrub the image of a desperate Jaskier whining under him out of his head.

A day or so into this, it finally got to the point of dying down. Where the most of what Jaskier begged for was to hold the witcher's hand. And he let him.

Sometimes it really did feel like he was dealing with an insufferable cat.

Jaskier was, indeed, very thankful. Of course, neither of them brought up that trip until many weeks later. "So we're not going to talk about it then?" the bard prompted over a drink. It was well after dark, they were in Jaskier's room at the inn. He had offered it to Geralt for the meantime, until the innkeeper finished up getting the witcher's ready.

Geralt didn't glance up from his boot laces. "Talk about what?"

"You know exactly what." 

Geralt stood up with a grunt, "Nothing to talk about."

Jaskier gawked, "Nothing to-there's plenty to talk about! I'm an omega! You're an alpha! I-heaven's I embarrassed myself. How did you put up with me?"

He could roll his eyes harder, but he might chance losing them. "It was a chore." He's fought beasts a'plenty but having to wrangle this needy omega almost made him want to turn in the towel. "Being an omega doesn't change who you are, doesn't change how I see you-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" he interrupted, jutting a finger at him. "Except it does! I've seen the way you've taken to acting around me now, you can't deny it." That was true. Geralt had been sticking awfully close to the bard as of later. Throwing death glares at alphas steering too clear, despite Jaskier being back to chewing on his herbs. "Face it, now that you know you think I'm weak and need your big strong alpha arms to protect me."

"No." Geralt looked at him with a scoff and a nearly playful smirk. "I thought you were weak before." 

Jaskier guffawed, hand on his chest. Then on his hips. "Do not mock me, witcher."

"The only one mocking you here is yourself, you think I should treat you differently now that I know? Is that what you'd like?"

"Anyone else would have-"

"But I'm not anyone else. You seem to be forgetting that." Geralt walked over to his things. Had to take inventory of everything before the next job.

Jaskier paused, that was... true. Just how differently would that trip have gone if Geralt was like anyone else? Or like anyone he had in mind. "You're right... I should thank you. For not, well..." taking advantage of the situation. Or leaving him in the cold. Abandoning him.

Another grunt, "Shouldn't thank someone for being decent, bard. Only the wicked would see someone in such a state as an opportunity. And I would like to think 'wicked' isn't something that'd come up in one of your songs about me."

He laughed, "Still, it's nice to know there's still some decent folk around." And comforting, so comforting. The witcher had ways of making him feel safe, even without brandishing a sword, "You know... Geralt, if my heat should make its rounds while you’re… nearby." He clears his throat, "I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you."

And Geralt is, well, shocked. But it doesn’t show. His hands only pause, "You’d let me?" that sounded too hopeful, especially for him.

"I'd let you take me right now if you so wished it. But that’s aside the point.” 

That almost got a laugh out of him, but Geralt was skeptical. He didn't like the idea of getting close to someone he saw on a nearly daily basis. But if Jaskier was offering, “…. No marking. No scenting. Just a matter of release?” 

“Exactly.” his heart begins to pick up in his chest, pulse racing. "Just a casual, no strings, fling. Don't even have to make me breakfast in the morning." Yes or no, that was all he wanted to know. If he didn't ask the question now it'd only eat at him later.

And Geralt looks at Jaskier, really looks at him. It feels like forever before he nods. And the bard smiles, but he tries not to make it too obvious.

\--  
That damned thief-no. No, Jaskier had to hold himself accountable. He wanted, and asked, Geralt to take him. And he had no excuse for it either. He was clear headed at the time. No ale to blame, no hormones. No beasts. It was all Jaskier and his doing. He wanted it.

He wanted Geralt.

And for a moment. A beautiful, blissful moment. He had him. And when he did he swore he could have lost everything else, save for Geralt, and he would have been just as satisfied. So long as he had his witcher.

And now he didn't. As far as he could tell he'd be stuck penning second hand tales in dingy taverns for the rest of his life. No more adventures. Not for Jaskier. He didn't want to go on any quest or journey if it wasn't for or with his witcher. The White Wolf. And certainly not now. When he was pregnant with his bastard child.

As if Geralt wanted children. Hah. He couldn't even imagine. What was he going to do? Change a nappy with one hand and slay a beast with another? He didn't think so. The man wasn't even going to retire. He didn't plan on it.

Jaskier didn't know what he was going to do. About anything. He couldn't very well out himself now, as an unwed, unmarked omega. And not only as a male one, but as a pregnant one at that. Not in this damn town. He's seen folks get pummeled near death for less.

Only one thing was for certain: He had a lot of thinking to do.


	2. Berries

Finding a mage in town was hard-in fact he had to travel quite a ways to find one. But getting together the coin for it was even more so. Jaskier hadn't sang at the inn in ages, his coin was low. Had been for a while. He had reason for it.

When he first found out he was with child his thoughts turned immediately towards being rid of it. He couldn't raise a child on his own. Growing up a bastard child himself he knew the scrutiny the poor thing would be under. And his mother was a countess! Imagine how the bastard child of a male omega would fair. It made him sick. He didn't want that. And he wasn't keen on abandoning the poor thing either. He knew he wouldn't be able to if he ever saw their face. 

So he turned to the only solution he could think of at the time. See, he didn't just have to pay for the supplies and the procedure, he had to pay to keep the mage's damned mouth shut. He couldn't let word get out that he was an omega. It was hush money.

He was covered head to toe in the dullest rags he had buried in his closet, face well obscured save for his eyes. He didn't want to chance it. "There's your coin. When can we do this?" he held himself tightly, hunched over without his lute at his back. His fingers dug into his arms. He had to sell it. He could always get a new one. Sure, he'd miss it. It had been a great comfort. Hell, he even slept with the damn thing cradled in his arms a few times. Though that was mostly to keep it from being stolen. 

Now look. He felt like a damned traitor.

He made the mistake of giving them his coin far too early on. 

When he was up on that table all he could think about was a pair of piercing yellow eyes. The same pair that had been plaguing him for weeks now. In his dreams. His nightmares. Even whilst he was still well awake. They never left the back of his mind.

He wondered, would a child of the witcher share his white hair as well? Or would they take more so after Jaskier himself? It was a shame he'd never find out. Never get to hear their laughter. Their first song. Never get to teach them how to play the lute.

It wasn't until he heard the scraping of metal did he jerk up. "Nope! Sorry-no. I've changed-hng-" he struggled to pull his slacks back up on his way off the table, "-my mind!" this might have been the stupidest, most ill-conceived plan he's ever come up with. But damn it, it was his. And he was willing to try to be the best damned father he could be. That was more than he could say for his own father.

Turned out the mage didn't do refunds. Jaskier had to hitch a ride all the way back to Posada.

And now here he was, in a dingy squatter's shack after overstaying his welcome at the local inn. Turned out they didn't take too kindly to bards who wouldn't sing. And why would he? His muse was long gone now. And he hadn't a lute to play neither. He had to sell most of his finer clothes just to make sure he had enough supplies and food. And he wrote to his mother, like hell was he not going to tell her his woes. If she heard it from anyone else she'd have his head.

He's yet to hear back from her, but she lived so far, it was bound to take a while. He's had to stop taking his herbs, but he still wore them in a pouch to cover up the scent whenever he went out. And he never strayed too far from the shack. He only went far enough to pick berries. Berries that he only knew weren't poisonous after Geralt damn snapped at him for almost eating a few that were and then giving him an entire lesson on foraging. He didn't think it'd actually come in handy.

He was perhaps a month or so along. And he was already ravenous. Not even a ghoul's appetite could compare to his own. He knew he was going to have to figure something better out in terms of food. Perhaps he could go back to singing again-

Jaskier froze.

Another twig snapped. His gaze followed the sound to the treeline, just a few feet away from where he crouched beside a berry bush, fingers stained red. He cautiously brought another berry to his lips, eyes scanning through the trees until he was met with a shock of white.

He scrambled to his feet, "No-"

"Jaskier." Geralt began.

"You are the last person I want to see!" the bard stumbled over his own feet, kicking up clumps of grass in his wake. He made a mad dash to the shack, but he aught to know Geralt was far quicker than him. The witcher had him caught by the back of his tunic and spun around with his back against a post in a hot second. "Let me go, witcher. I'm not one of your beasts." the venom he held did not surprise Geralt, not in the slightest.

It was the lingering scent. Something... something that was just on the tip of his tongue. It reminded him of warm milk. And honeysuckle. And-

His eyes snapped down, wide with the sudden realization. "Jaskier..." funny how this was the first time he felt so hesitant and unsure of himself.

Meanwhile the bard's face was burning. With rage. Embarrassment. And something else. "Geralt." he spat out, like the name was foul tasting.

Geralt shuffled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His hands left Jaskier's shoulders, one bracing himself against the post and the other hesitating mere inches from the man's stomach. No attempt were made of Jaskier to move. "You're-"

"With child? Yes, so I've noticed." he could only imagine it was one of those damned witcher things of his. Of course he would have been able to tell.

"And it's..." 'Mine', he wants to say, but it doesn't feel right. Not just yet. 

"Yours." Jaskier smacks Geralt's hand away, stepping out from under his looming presence. "Aren't you clever?" 

It's quiet outside his measley little shack. Save for the wind in the trees, the only thing which was keeping his calm in the moment. There was some sort of serenity to the place. Jaskier hadn't felt uneasy once. Until Geralt came into the picture.

All is quiet and still, until Geralt asks the question he'd been dreading, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know, Geralt. You know, and even if I had I wouldn’t have told you. You made your stance on me pretty clear last we saw each other.” he scoffed, arms crossing over his chest. "I'm just a lousy shit shoveler, aren't I?"

He watches something flash across Geralt's face. And he swears it's guilt. "I shouldn't have said that, Jaskier." Well, that was probably just about as close to an apology as he was going to get out og him, he figured. His shoulders untensed, yet he still refused to look Geralt's way. "I..."

Jaskier does glance over now, if only to see what the hesitation was for.

“I hope you know this doesn’t make us mates.”

That made him scoff, “Of course it doesn’t, we had a deal." Frankly it hurt that that was the first thing to come to mind at the news. As if Jaskier would pull such an act. "Not going to force you to make an ‘honest’ omega out of me. Besides, you have your head too far up that mage’s backside.” 

“Don’t bring her into this.” 

He threw his hands up, “I will bring her into this. I-I don’t like her!” 

“… And?” 

“There is no 'and’, I don’t like her. I don’t trust her. And she hasn’t given me reason to.” 

It felt like they've been over this about a dozen times beforehand, Geralt was tired of it. “She saved your life.” And he expected it to end there, like it always had. But there was a fire burning in Jaskier on this day, and Geralt had a feeling he was more than to blame.

So when Jaskier barked out a sour laugh and turned on him, hands on his hips, he drew up his eyebrows. “Oh, yes! I’m sorry, hard to remember that when she scared the daylights out of me, probably would have killed me! Brought the whole damn house down with you in it. Which she has yet to apologise for, oh-unless you call what you two were doing in the rubble 'apology’. Then everything’s good and well!” he clapped his hands together for good measure, stomping a foot into the earth.

“… You done?” 

“Not even. For a man who doesn’t 'feel’ she sure broke your heart, and I just got caught in the crossfire. Two hearts were broken that day, Witcher. And you were only concerned with yours.” He felt the wetness of his cheeks before he even realized he was crying, and possibly had been throughout that entire speech of his. "Oh this is fantastic-don't look at me." he turned away, only now spotting Roach just a few paces away. "You either." He sniffed, but Roach just came closer. 

“I’d compose a song about that woman if I had my damned lute.” Jaskier growls, turning to the horse, who now nudged at his arm. “Now you, you I could never be angered with.” He coos, stroking the horse’s nose. “I don’t have any sugar cubes to sneak you today.” it was a whisper, but Geralt caught it.

Eager for a change in topic, Geralt broached the subject. “Where is that lute? And why haven’t you been at the tavern?” That lute had been practically glued to Jaskier from the start. And now he stiffens at the mention of it.

But the tavern. Did Geralt go looking for him? Had he actually been worried for his well being? It all seemed a little far fetched from where he was standing.

“… I sold it.” He turns, one hand still on Roach’s side. “I… was scared when I found out about… you know. So I scrapped together all the coin I could. I wanted to be rid of it. And the rest of the coin was to keep the mage’s lips sealed. And obviously I didn’t go through with it. Damn thing. Got attached. Bastard kept my coin.” he grumbles the last bit bitterly, pressing his face into Roach's coat.

Jaskier's stomach suddenly let out the fiercest rumble, loud enough to cause the horse to become alert even.

"We should head inside." Geralt prompts, "Get you fed-"

"I have food. I don't need yours."

"And how long is it going to last, Jaskier? You're carrying, without a job, and I don't think berries are going to do either of you any good in the long run."

He couldn't argue there. Knowing Geralt he was well stocked. Meats, cheeses-oh gods, cheese. And liver. 

Geralt ended up visiting quite often after that, and soon Jaskier warmed up to him once more. Hard not to. Especially when there was food on the menu. And Geralt always brought so much. He stayed in that shack for a month more, until a parcel arrived with the witcher next. Two, technically, but Jaskier was more interested in the one with his old family crest sealed in wax on the parchment.

"It's from my mother, bless her... she wants to chew your head off." he looks over the letter to the witcher, who sat before the fireplace keeping the flames lit. When he got a grunt he continued, "She says my old nanny has a farm down in Kagen, the coin should be enough for traveling and expenses..." there was still something else amongst all this paper as well. He dug around for it while Geralt spoke. 

"How long has it been since you've last seen her? Your mother."

"Oh, years. The earl kicked me out and shunned me once I presented at sixteen-late bloomer. He would have done so regardless though, considering he was many things but my father was not one of them." he paused, fingers coming into contact with something soft. When he pulled it out he nearly wept. "Oh, Geralt..." it was a blanket, one of his own from when he was a child. His mother kept it all these years.

The witcher looked up, and there was just something about the bard's face that made him grow softer by the day. By all accounts it was bad for him, but for now he cared not. "It looks well made." he commented, "Why don't you take a look at what I brought for you?"

"Oh? Is it my birthday?" he chuckles, folding the blanket up nice and proper before he stands up-until he sees that Geralt has already beat him to it. "I'm not helpless, you know. You can't even tell I'm pregnant." 

"Just making up for lost time."

He rolls his eyes, flicking the latch open and popping the lid off the crate. And as soon as he set his sights on that polished wood and long neck he burst into tears. Geralt was almost worried he didn't like it. But the bard smiled, so big and wide. "Geralt, you didn't have to."

"With a voice like yours you can't sing without being accompanied." that got him a light slap on the arm.

Now with this beauty of a lute-which had a wolf so delicately carved into the frame, he noticed-he could easily earn himself a good living. Up until he couldn't hide the pregnancy anymore, which was why he planned on going to Kagen. And he told Geralt as such on his next visit. 

"I'll be nice and safe on the farm, Nana's a mage. If something happens when the time comes she knows how to deliver and do so safely." Jaskier had all of his things well and packed, which wasn't much, thankfully. "I just need help getting there. Bandits and whatnot-I'd pay you."

"Keep your coin, Jaskier. I already have business that way, as long as you don't sing the same three songs I'll get you there."

"Is this your way of telling me I need new material?"


	3. Cravings

They'd been traveling for days now, stopping each night to make camp. They would have been there by now, had Geralt not been such a damned worrywart. And frankly, it was driving Jaskier mad. He could appreciate being helped with a thing or two, but the hovering had to stop. "Geralt. I'm not made of glass." He'd tell him, and he'd let up. Just a bit. For a little while. But the Witcher was always so cautious. Especially with someone who was just bound to get into trouble.

At least they'd both be getting some rest tonight at this inn. Jaskier would love to be able to actually bathe for once. As much as he loved smelling like horse and Geralt...

Speaking of horses....

The first few days of riding Roach-because Geralt refused to let Jaskier walk-were hell for his nausea. Oh but it was all so worth having the Witcher's strong arms wrapped around him.

Now that they were off the road he began to miss them.

Jaskier tossed off his boots, sinking down onto the bed with a heavy groan. The last few days had not been kind to him. His body ached. His feet were sore. His hunger raged.

Ah yes. His appetite. Jaskier had been craving nothing but meat for the whole trip. Jerky could only satisfy him for so long. But good, fresh, blood still running warm meat-the fresher, the better.

They, or rather Geralt, had found this out in a rather gruesome way. After just felling a deer he had instructed Jaskier to return to camp while he cleaned it up. His reasoning was so as not to upset his stomach. But the bard remained. And at first he thought it was solely out of pure stubbornness.

Until he saw his face. His blown pupils. Eyes that were transfixed on the animal. On the meat he was carving.

That could have been excused as hunger. Sure. But then came nightfall. Geralt was a light sleeper. Even the slightest shift could rouse him. So when Jaskier got up in the middle of the night it woke him. Though he remained silent, he listened for the bard's return.

It must have been a bathroom trip. Geralt had been forcing the bard to drink more water lately, so it wasn't too worrying that Jaskier would get up in the middle of the night for that. What was worrying, however, was the crunching.

Geralt found a half awake Jaskier just a few feet away from their tent. Crouching besides the smoldering remains of their campfire. He could excuse late night snacking. He needed the energy for the life growing inside him. It wasn't until he saw just what he was snacking on that Geralt's stomach actually turned. Now, he's seen some Shit over the years. But a sleepwalking man making himself a gruesome snack? That was up there.

He could only assume the fuzzy tail sticking out of Jaskier's blood covered mouth belonged to a squirrel. Perhaps the same squirrel Jaskier had complained about earlier that day. Because it had been "a right pest" and kept chucking things at them.

Geralt had to help soothe Jaskier once a particularly loud crunch woke him up from his hunger fueled trance fully. And he hurled the poor squirrel's remains right back up. What worried Jaskier most was how... good it tasted. If he ignored the fur and the bones, that is. Both of which he spent hours trying to pick out of his teeth amidst his gross sobbing.

Geralt took to making sure Jaskier didn't go to bed hungry after that.

Why Jaskier had such... bloody midnight cravings, Geralt didn't know. He could only hazard a guess it was his doing. After all, Geralt wasn't human. So naturally whatever Jaskier was carrying wouldn't be either.

"Oh no you don't." Jaskier pat the bed beside him, glaring at the bedroll Geralt was rolling out over the floor. "Get in this bed, Witcher."

"Don't think there's any room up there for me." He chuckled. And that was true, the bed was quite small. It was the only one the inn had available. And Geralt was fine with Jaskier having it.

"We'll just have to squeeze together then. Come now, we've been closer." He felt those yellow eyes move down to his stomach, before flicking back up to meet his blue. "Much closer."

It was quiet between them, he could tell Geralt was considering it. He just needed a nudge. "Well," Jaskier rose up, loosening the buttons on his tunic. "Anyways, I believe our bath is ready."

"Our-"

"Yes our, we both reek and you know it."

Jaskier could hardly wait to step into the bath. There was just one thing. He didn't quite want Geralt to see him so... nude. Which he knew was ridiculous. Geralt literally knew him inside and out. He already had his doublet discarded, folded on the dresser. He hesitated with his trousers, which were beginning to grow a little tight on him. He'd have to let them out some other time, perhaps after the bath.

Geralt, already in the bath, threw the bard a curious glance. "Taking your time?" he mused, noticing the look Jaskier was giving the mirror. He also noticed the two faint scars that crossed the bard's back. Geralt had noticed them before, but he never brought them up. It wasn't his place. And Jaskier hadn't asked him about his own, so it was only fair. But he wasn't a stranger to lashing. He's witnessed his fair share of "punishments", the idea that someone thought they could do the same to Jaskier made his blood boil.

He watched Jaskier turn, pushing his pants down, but only to his hips. Just enough to expose his stomach. "Can you tell a difference?" he asked Geralt, "I know it's early, but with the way I've been shoveling food in my mouth lately it's a wonder I haven't split the seams."

Geralt leans over the side of the tub, laying his eyes on Jaskier's belly. Something swelled inside him. Something warm. "I'd give it another month." his eyes lingered still. What was Geralt going to do? Leave Jaskier on his Nana's farm? Keep visiting him? It wasn't as though the bard could join him on any future jobs. Geralt wouldn't let him. Absolutely not. That would be far too dangerous. Besides, the life of a Witcher was no life for a child.

Jaskier flicked his wrist, "Turn around." he ordered, cheeks flushing red. This made the witcher chuckle, and yet he obliged. He only took a glance over his shoulder once he felt the bard's back against his own. ".... you know I've already seen-"

"Be quiet."

The bed was indeed a snug fit for the two of them, but they made it work. Jaskier wouldn't admit it, but he loved being able to rest his head on the Witcher's chest. Listening to his heart beat. Put him right to sleep. And it gave Geralt the perfect opportunity to think about, well, everything practically. 

He's had a lot on his mind lately, and rightfully so. He was going to be a father, and he didn't know if he was quite ready for that. But he was not going to abandon this child, nor his friend. Not now, when he could smell the fear and worry on him. And if things went well, hopefully not ever.

How hard could it be anyhow? He's juggled worse. 

Jaskier's arm draped across Geralt's chest, the bard resting his cheek against him as he slept more soundly than he had in weeks. Maybe even months. Geralt found himself staring down at him. There it was again. That feeling in his chest. Warm and growing day by day. He hummed, brushing Jaskier's hair out of his face. 

He didn't know when he started to fall for the bard, but it was well before the dragon quest. That much he knew for sure. 

He just didn't know if he should be falling for him in the first place.

\--  
Back on the road again. This time, on a job. See, while the duo had been staying the night at the inn, word got around that a witcher was in town. And with that came opportunity. And Jaskier being as stubborn as ever.

"You're not coming." Geralt had told him, not once, not even three times. But six. And Jaskier had ignored him each time. 

"Oh come on, I have to get my adventures in now while I still can. Preferably before there are any diapers to be changed."

And suffice to say trying to lock Jaskier in the room didn't work. That's how Geralt discovered the bard knew how to pick locks. 

"You said so yourself, it's probably nothing to worry about-"

"I only said that to comfort the man. Don't you know anything about griffins, Jaskier?" 

He scoffed, "I know they live in the mountains and there shouldn't be any reason for one to be hanging around some abandoned fort."

"Jaskier."

".... Fine, I'll stay by Roach. Bloody horse is better company anyways."

Jaskier ended up not staying by the trusty steed, despite his words.

He grew too curious for his own good. And, well, worried for his witcher. He told himself he'd only take a few peeks here and there, see if he could catch a glimpse of the creature before Geralt had to slay it. If there even was a creature. 

He knew the witcher was on the far side of the fort, faaaar from where he was snooping. No chance of him getting scolded. So far. 

And then he heard the oddest noise. He saw claw marks on the stone walls. Chipped stonework. Obviously something had tried to make its way inside the inner workings of the fort, but must have been far too large to do so. Jaskier saw feathers. Large ones. The sound he heard was faint, and reminded him of something vaguely familiar. And before he could stop himself he was following it.

He followed it all the way to a row of cells. Barely able to see in the dim light. The cries, he soon realized, grew louder the closer he grew near. He didn't know what to expect once he neared that cell, but it wasn't this.

The small creature, weak from hunger, was curled up under a cot when Jaskier found it. "Oh look at you..." his heart swelled. Must he have such a weakness for cute things? "Who locked you in here?" he tsked, fetching his tools from his pocket. He had that cell open in seconds. He wasn't worried, poor thing was too weak to even stand. Must have been in there for days. 

Which went along with that man's story. 

The sounds and sightings had only started up some days ago, if he recalled correctly. 

So the griffin did have a reason to be down here then.

He removed his coat, frowning. Little thing didn't even put up a fight when Jaskier wrapped it up so he could carry it. "I think someone's looking for you-"

A deafening roar shook the entire fort, making Jaskier's blood run cold. "And I think they just found Geralt."

When Geralt saw Jaskier tumble out of the fort into the courtyard he wanted to shout. Wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. And he'd do that, later. When he wasn't busy with the damn griffin. The griffin that, just moments ago, had been deadset on skewering Geralt on its talons, with the way it had him pinned. Had been. Now it seemed much more interested in the bard. Geralt's sword was just out of his reach, god damn it. "Jaskier, get back in the damn fort."

He watched the griffin tense, and he did as well, once he heard a cry. Saw the bundle in Jaskier's arms move. 

"Jaskier-"

The griffin started towards him, and Jaskier let the coat fall. The beast rumbled, tail flicking. And the griffin cub rose its head up with a chirp, to which its mother responded in kind. Much different than the roar it had just let loose just moments ago. It wasn't until Jaskier set the cub down and took a few-very large-steps back that it came near enough to check on it. 

Geralt had gone so pale during the exchange, now sitting up and staring in disbelief. 

It made sense now. When Geralt was searching the fort he kept coming across the remains of beasts. Big and small. Preserved, displayed. Like trophies. This old fort had been a base for poachers, they likely planned on killing the cub as well. But its mother tracked them down and ran them off. 

He still watched on with bated breath as the griffin groomed its cub as they were reunited. He was still wary, moving slow as he rose up. The griffin heard him, of course. He could tell by the way the fur on its back rose, and its ears swiveled back to listen to him. 

Jaskier watched in awe, a warm smile on his lips. Which soon fell when the griffin locked eyes on him. "Oh-" this beast was massive, magnificent. And it could tear through him if it wanted. But it didn't. In fact, it did the opposite. It leaned its head towards him, giving the air about Jaskier a sniff. Then it took a look back towards Geralt, who now had his sword. Which he immediately sheathed. 

It connected the two. 

The griffin looked back to Jaskier, then down. And Jaskier didn't know what it was looking at until the creature moved forward and brushed its cheek against his stomach. Jaskier felt something. He didn't know quite what. But he suddenly felt warm and light. And gratitude. He felt gratitude. And thankful. And these were not his feelings, he soon realized.

Geralt didn't apprach until the griffin had begun to walk off with its cub cradled in its maw. 

"What the fuck."

"Don't look at me, I'm pretty sure I just hallucinated that."

Geralt didn't even know if he should chew Jaskier out for not listening to him. All he knew was that he was relieved. And shocked. In complete awe. And wondering how Jaskier was still standing when his legs were shaking so horribly. 

"Geralt did you see the size of that thing-Geralt her talons were bigger than my forearm. Geralt-Geralt I think I need to lie down."

There he was.

"I take it you're all adventured out then?"

Jaskier smacked his arm, "Oh fuck you."


	4. Instincts

Jaskier had taken up a rather curious habit as of late. A habit which involved carding his fingers through the Witcher's hair. Grooming him. Picking out leaves and the like. It wasn't just something he did with him either. Roach too. And the horse loved it. Whenever they stopped Jaskier would hug his arms around the mount's neck and plant a kiss just between it's eyes before brushing that mane. There was one time where Jaskier seemingly forgot and Roach just about nudged him off his feet.

Which got a laugh out of Geralt. "You've spoiled her." He tells him, feeling around in one of his saddle bags. 

"She deserves it." Jaskier scoffs, giving Roach a peck. "Don't tell me you're jealous now." He teased, running his fingers through the horse's coarse mane-much to her delight. "You're next." 

Geralt recalled still finding petals from the last time he let Jaskier play with his hair. But it had been mighty worth it. If only so he could watch Jaskier's face as he did so. He's never seen someone look so pensive about a single flower's placement before. And the fingers through his hair after a long day had been more than welcomed.

"Why've we stopped?" Jaskier asks, looking to the pub they stood before. "Fancy a drink, do you?"  
"Gotta drop off a package." He answers, "Client's in there."

"Oh? Since when are you a courier?" Jaskier gives Roach a scratch behind the ear, scrunching up his face when she huffed hot air right at him. "I'm only teasing, silly girl."

"Something tells me they're not gonna like what's inside." Geralt grimaced, holding the parcel aloft. It wasn't clear what it held, but the Witcher could smell death through the parchment. 

Jaskier too wrinkled his nose. "Oh yuck-and here I thought one of us stepped in something foul." He hadn't noticed the stench at first, but as the days went on. "Almost makes me lose my appetite.... Almost. I'm famished." 

"Jaskier-"

"Geralt, I'll be fine. I've been kicking it on my own for ages now, if things get hairy I'll slip right on out. Besides, I really don't think you want to get in between me and a meal right now." The hunger gnawed at him to no end, and he could smell the food from inside the pub. Mouthwatering. 

Geralt cocked a brow, suddenly recalling the incident with the squirrel. "... Point taken."

The pub was quiet, being broad day. It wasn't as busy as it would have been if it were night. And for that Geralt was thankful. It made keeping an eye on Jaskier all the easier. And right now the bard was seated at the bar, chatting it up with the barmaid as he filled his belly. 

A familiar face caught the Witcher's eye. 

"Seems like we're getting a colorful bunch of guests lately." The woman commented, "First those bandits, then the mage. Now you two. A Witcher and his bard."

Jaskier didn't know what to ask about first. "Bandits? They come here often?" 

There was a pause, but Jaskier scarcely noticed it. Busy bringing the bowl of stew to his lips. If he weren't so hungry he would have noticed the brief flash of something akin to panic crossing her face. "Only... once a month to cause a ruckus, but then the mage came. They ran with their tails between their legs. Wouldn't worry about them. I think she's still here." Something about that didn't sit right with Jaskier. He had this sneaking suspicion. 

He finished off his food, wiping his mouth. "I'll be back for seconds, do you have somewhere I can wash up?" He felt uneasy. The hair at the back of his neck stood straight up. Something felt amiss about this whole thing. The food didn't even taste right. And the people here, they looked... off. Their clothes were so old fashioned, out of date. And something about them made his stomach churn.

Jaskier felt silly. He was just being paranoid. 

But once he rounded that corner he discovered that it might as well have been justified. "Oh of course!" His face dropped into a scowl, hands coming to rest on his hips. "I should have known." 

"Hello Jaskier, I was wondering where you were." Yennefer greeted, leaning back from the witcher who stood across from her. "Lap dogs never do stray too far from their masters now, do they?" His scowl only deepened, "Oh lighten up, keep making that face and those wrinkles will never go away."

Geralt rolled his eyes, "Can't you two get along for one second?"

Jaskier came to stand at Geralt's side, sending a glare the mage's way. "No. Geralt I think we need to leave."

"I haven't even met with my client yet, Jaskier. I still have a job to do."

"Something-just-something doesn't feel right." And it wasn't just Yennefer's presence putting him off.

Yennefer looked the bard over, saw his uneasiness. Saw him worrying his lip. She touched Geralt's arm to gain his attention, "I think you should listen to him. There is something off to this place."

Geralt hummed, and the thoughtful look that crossed him only served to rile Jaskier. If he said something it was brushed off, but if she said the same he took it to heart? How was that fair? Compared to Jaskier they hardly knew each other. So why-

Jaskier could feel that little green monster clawing at him again. "Geralt you can leave your bloody package with the damned barmaid, I'll be outside. Waiting with Roach."

"Someone's in a foul mood." He heard Yennefer say, but he was already leaving. Didn't even stick around long enough to hear Geralt object, which he did. 

Yennefer crossed her arms. She hadn't expected to run into either of them, not today. Not after that whole mess. She was looking for someone. A lead. She was told they frequented this pub, but that turned out to be a fat lie. She clicked her tongue, watching the bard leave. 

These two just reeked of each other. And when she said reeked, she meant it. Who was she to judge? She cares not for who the witcher took into his bed. It was curious however. How the bard seemed to be glowing despite the sour look about him. How Geralt tensed when he left his sights. As though he wanted to chase after him.

Suffice to say she had some suspicions.

"He doesn't-"

"Like me?" She mused, "If things were reversed I don't think I'd like him either." At the look Geralt gave her she chuckled, "I don't hate him, it's just good fun getting under his skin. He's quite adorable." 

That at least made Geralt feel relieved.

His attention turned down the hall, to the sound of footsteps approaching them. Must have been another pub goer. Or that's what he thought, until the door opened and in walked Jaskier.

"I thought you were leaving."

The bard blinked, staring up at the two of them, then out the door he just walked through. "I was-and I am!" He turned, opening the door wide with the most perplexed of faces. 

Yennefer grew uneasy. 

Jaskier walked right back out that door. And that seemed to be that. Until the pair heard the entrance to the pub slam shut, followed by a shout of, "What the hell?"

They walked out of the hall to find Jaskier, once again, staring at another door like it just told him to 'fuck off'. And to an effect, it did. The bard gave an exasperated shout, "How am I supposed to storm off like this?" He swung the door wide open, marching out once more. He didn't make it three feet before something unseen forced him back. The door slammed shut.

"Fuck." Thank you, Geralt.

Yennefer went to stop the bard from trying a third time, only for him to yank himself away from her. "No, no-you, do not touch me." He hissed.

"Three times is a death wish, bard. Whatever's keeping us in here obviously doesn't want us to leave."

Jaskier locked eyes with her, glowering at the mage. Stubborn as ever he ignored the mage's warning. The second his hand touched the handle he was thrown back, straight off his feet. And right into Yennefer. 

The two of them groaned, Yennefer cursing the bard and his idiocy. She didn't miss how Geralt went to his side. Didn't miss the concern in his voice when he asked him if he was alright.

She did, thankfully, miss the bard's lunch as he hurled. Right on the pub floor. "Oh how delightful." She spat, grabbing one of his arms despite his protest, "Come on, let's get you up. You damn..." She drew a breath, pausing. In her sentence, in her movements. She had his arm over her shoulders, and one arm wrapped around his waist. But her hand, her hand was on his stomach. And she could feel him freezing up.

Geralt had his other side, standing up straight with the bard leaning against him, slipping out of Yennefer's hold. Yennefer who, still shocked, now stared at her palm.

It was a long few moments, moments Geralt was too busy checking on Jaskier during.

"Are you alright?" He asked again, and Jaskier cleared his throat. 

"I'm fine, just winded." His eyes went to Yennefer, who was staring right at him. Worry pinched at his gut. 

"You... oh, wow." She laughed, looking between them with her lips pursed. "Incredible, Geralt. You know, I never pegged you as a hypocrite."

"Now isn't the time."

Jaskier pulled away from Geralt with a groan, "Ugh, if you two are going to argue leave me out of it." He massaged his temples, "Let's save it for later, alright? How about we figure out what the hell is going on?"

Yennefer's eyes softened, wind pulled out of her sails. She sighed, reluctantly. "Fine. Once this is all said and done we can all sit around a campfire sharing our tales." The sarcasm was incredibly heavy on this day.

The barmaid caught their attention. She was grinning from ear to ear. But if one bothered to look past her smile they'd be able to tell it wasn't genuine. It hadn't been for a while. She took a cloth to the counter top, shaking her head, "No one leaves this place." She sighed. "Not once they're caught."

Geralt narrowed his gaze, drawing near to the bar. "What do you mean?"

"I think it's obvious." Yennefer scowled, "This place is a trap. Look around, Geralt. Don't you think it's odd?"

Jaskier looked at the man sat at the bar, who hadn't moved since they came in. He waved a hand in front of his face, no response. Not even a flicker. "Sir?" He touched his shoulder. Cold. Ice cold. And Jaskier was only now noticing just how damn pale he was. 

"This place. It has ways of luring people in. All kinds of ways." The woman looked up, and Geralt was stunned by the lack of color to her eyes. Not even a pupil. They looked like glass. "Do you even remember who gave you that package, sir Witcher?"

Geralt opened his mouth. As if to speak. Only for the words to die on his tongue. No. No, he didn't. He couldn't recall a face. Nor where he had taken up the job. Was it Posada? He couldn't remember. 

"There was never a job, never a lead." Her eyes fell on Yennefer, "I am sorry."

The man Jaskier was trying to rouse lolled to the side, slumping in his seat. Until he collapsed to the floor in a terrible heap. This made the bard flee right to Geralt's side, "I swear I didn't do anything."

"Don't worry, I've seen this place take many over the years. They never suspect it." The barmaid went to clean a glass. "I assume it's painless. They never scream."

"And what about you?" Yennefer demanded, "Why hasn't it claimed you?" 

"Because, I made it." The woman's smile was almost proud, and then it was bitter once more. "All I wanted was a safe haven. Where there were no lies. So I put sigils, symbols, all over the place. No one could utter a single white lie under this roof-"

"The sky is red." Jaskier interrupted, still eyeing the corpse on the ground. 

The barmaid continued, "Until, a man came along and broke it. Compulsive liar. Actually believed the shit he was spewing. See, so long as you think it's true it'll accept it. But he kept on, every day. Contradicting himself. It couldn't take it. And now," she waved a hand. "It lures in those tangled in webs of their own making, and feeds on them."

She sighed, "I really wish I could help, but the only way I can even think that might help is if you three laid everything bare."

"And so the truth will set you free." Yennefer mumbled, "Well that's just great. We're never getting out of here-"

"I don't think you'd be a terrible mother." Geralt said, "I just never expected you to be the type. It was shocking." 

That sent her reeling, hand on her chest as she looked at the Witcher with wide eyes. "Are we doing this? Are we really-alright then." Yennefer clapped her hands together. "I am still very much so on the rocks about you with that whole djin ordeal. Don't get me wrong. I want to punch you in the face." A grunt. "Jaskier."

"Oh, no. My turn? Well for starters, and since you already clearly know something is up with your mage bullshit... I'm an omega. And I'm pregnant. I also want to punch Geralt in the face." He crossed his arms frowning at the meer thought of having to share anything with the damn mage in the room. "Geralt."

"... Your singing doesn't sound like a pie without filling." And that made him gasp so loud.

The three of them went on like that. Jaskier spilling very small, miniscule secrets he didn't think mattered. Always skirting around what he felt was obvious. Until it came right down to it. 

"... Sweet Kiss is about us." He's always lied and spun some tale whenever it came up. It'd been eating at him for a while now." 

Yennefer slammed her drink down, "No!" She gasped, maybe a teensy bit drunk. She watched him bury his face in his hands. "Oh you poor soul... Geralt, comfort your mate." 

"We're not even mates, Yennefer." 

That seemed to throw Yennefer for a loop, and she was thrown through an even bigger loop when Geralt looked up and caught the both of them off guard. "No. But maybe I'd like to try."

"... Try?" Jaskier could feel his pulse thudding in his ears. 

"Relationships aren't exactly a strong suit-" when Yennefer snorted he shot her a look. "But, I'm open to trying."

His mouth was suddenly dry, "Oh, oh w o w.... I'm assuming it'd be an open thing? If we were to try, I mean." 

"Naturally. Can't tie Jaskier down, what would all those noblewomen do?"

Jaskier laughed, "You know, they'd probably be awfully sore.... If we ever manage to get out of here." 

"We should try the door." Yennefer suggested, rising up from the table. She started for the door, able to successfully swing it open. She cheered quietly to herself, walking out into the night. "Well, I did it at least. Your turn." She rose her pint up, back to her lips.

Geralt got up.

Leaving Jaskier still inside the pub. The bard stood, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's just-one more thing. Yennefer." He cleared his throat, catching her eye from across the threshold. "I never hated you. I know that's what you thought. I... may have been a little jealous. Worried even." He looked down, slipping one toe over the line and holding his breath. "Worried you might screw everything over for me, selfish, I know. But I am very, very selfish. That's not new." He paused, halfway out the door.

"Did you really have to get all sappy on me?" Yennefer groaned, slinging an arm around the bard and mussing up his hair. "Don't suppose this means we're friends now?"

"Let's just start over, how about that?" But his voice was cracking. 

"... Jaskier." Geralt cocked his head, eyes narrowing. 

He groaned, frozen partway through the doorway. Seemed the pub wasn't satisfied. "My name is Julian. Julian Alfred Pankratz." His cheeks flushed, mumbling under his breath. "Do call me Jaskier." And yet he still couldn't leave, "Dammit! This isn't fair!" Was nothing sacred. "Listen, I'm a man of many secrets. I will admit that. And I was planning on sharing, when the time was right." He looked huffy, sure. But Geralt could smell the fear oozing off of him.

"I know I should have told you, of all people, sooner. Considering your profession and whatnot. But if you want to get technical here, you're not all that bright, Geralt-" Yennefer laughed, "-I mean, we've known each other for what, ten, twenty years? And I still look like I did on the day we met."

"Jaskier would you get to the point?" 

"... just do remember that I'm with child and Yennefer still wants to punch you in the face." A last try at getting a laugh in before he had to gather up all his courage. "Geralt, Yennefer... I'm not exactly human."

And with that he was finally able to tumble through, fidgeting with his clothes. "Half human, more like. Technically speaking. It's actually an interesting story, my birth..." He mumbled, weaving his fingers together and avoiding both of their eyes. "... please say something."

"What are you, if not human."

"That's... exactly what I was hoping you wouldn't ask. Let's find some place to camp first, don't know if you've noticed, but time passed differently out here." And that was true, it was now pitch black. And Roach looked antsy. "... Yennefer will you be traveling with us?" He sounded hopeful, silently pleading with her. She hadn't made a comment about his non-human status as of yet, and although he knew Geralt wouldn't harm him, he at least wished for someone to talk to.

"Don't suppose why not, I've got nothing more to do." And she wasn't leaving the bard in the state he was in now, stressed and worried. It wasn't safe. And she would only worry herself sick seeing him off now.  
\--  
Finding a place to settle for the night had been far more stressful than anticipated. The air was thick with tension. Jaskier wouldn't meet Geralt's gaze, and just about hovered around Yennefer. She kept his mind off things.

By the time they got a fire going he was hoping Geralt had forgotten. But the steady gaze he felt on him said otherwise.

"... so, I'm part leshen-"

The choking that sounded beside him caused him to pause, turning to the mage with a quiet inquiry. She cursed between breaths, calming herself from the shock, "Your mother laid with a fucking leshen?"

"No!" He groaned, "It was a ritual-there was this whole thing-" but the two kept on, back and forth. Yennefer bringing up something about splinters, to which Jaskier wanted nothing more than to shove his head in the dirt and call it a night.

And then there was Geralt.

He remained silent throughout it all, until their conversation died down. "... This would explain the squirrel." And Jaskier was both shocked and relieved at the response.

If Geralt had discovered this sooner, he would have been apprehensive. And hesitant to be alone with the bard. But let's face it, if Jaskier wanted to do him or anyone else harm he would have already done so. And during all these years he's never laid a finger on another person. Aside from the bar fight here and there. But that was aside the point. 

Geralt prided himself on being a good judge of character. Jaskier was no exception. "You will have to show me what all you can do though."

Jaskier chuckled, "Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeves."

"I bet you do, tree boy." Yennefer snorted, "Let's hope that goes well. Hey, knock on wood."

"Ugh, Yennefer." Jaskier rolled his eyes


	5. Idk

"Now, bear with me, it's been quite a while since I've last used my magic." Jaskier cleared his throat. It was early in the morning, fog still hanging heavy over their camp. Dew clinging to the grass. Yennefer had brewed him a simple tea to help settle his stomach, as that morning's sickness had just about wrecked him. Geralt asked her for the recipe later on. When Jaskier was out of earshot.

"You're stalling, lark." Geralt grunted, saddle bags all packed up and ready for their journey. 

Jaskier huffed. He absolutely was not stalling. Just didn't want to get either of their expectations up. He spotted Yennefer lightly smacking Geralt's arm, likely telling him to be patient. Now, Jaskier wasn't going to lie, he still felt a smidge jealous seeing her around the Witcher. But, as it were, Geralt had two hands....

He cleared his throat, leaning back against the log behind him. The magic used to come so easy to him, back when he was a lad. Back when he couldn't handle himself in a scrap. Couldn't hold his own. Now he didn't need to. He had his wits, his charm. His Witcher. His knife. He could skin a man if he so needed-of course he'd rather not, especially considering his state. 

Back then it was as easy as plucking petals from a flower. But this was now. And he was growing steadily frustrated. 

"Don't stress yourself with it." Yennefer told him gently, "You'll only frustrate yourself."

Jaskier groaned, laying his head back against the wood. "I used to be able to grow giant flowers with just a thought, you know. Should have seen it. Buttercups the size of my head!" Maybe he had grown too comfortable as of late. He admits he hasn't had a need for his powers ever since Geralt came along. And that was, what, decades ago? He was out of practice is all. "I just need to keep trying." 

He looked up at the trees, pout on his lips. A songbird sat among the branches. The bright plumage caught his eye.

"Oh." Jaskier's face lit up, "There's one thing I can definitely show you." Jaskier pulled himself up, seating himself on the log instead of against. He made himself nice and comfortable, rolling his shoulders. Which wasn't necessary, but nonetheless.

Geralt quirked a brow before glancing to Yennefer who, unsurprisingly, looked genuinely curious. 

And then came the birds. About a dozen or so. Blue and singing. All of them now gathering around the positively giddy bard. "Oh! Oh it still works!" He was thrilled, holding out his arms for the small song birds to take perch. "My little lovelies, aren't you precious?" He shared with them a whistle, which they each sang back. 

Jaskier giggled, "I have my own little entourage." A grunt from the Witcher made him look away from his birds, just quick enough to catch that glint of a smile. His cheeks turned pink, the birds ruffling their feathers at his state. 

"Suppose if you had antlers like a full leshen they'd all perch on them." Yennefer chuckled, "That'd be a sight." And it was such an innocent phrase. Nothing meant by it. She couldn't possibly know. And yet the memories dragged themselves up regardless. Jaskier's eyes turned glossy, distant. The smile on his lips losing all feeling and now nothing more than mechanical. Geralt could see it in his eyes.

Jaskier used to have such a gorgeous set of antlers back in the day. When he was just a boy. And where were they now? Mounted above the Earl's mantle like a trophy. Taken from him. Leaving long since faded scars where they once resided. And he had to walk by that damned mantle every day until he was shoved out. From his mother's letters he learned that they had actually grown over the years, and sprouted beautiful flowers from time to time. She always wrote to him when that happened. He wondered what else they sprouted. What she decided was better left unsaid.

He ached.

The birds left in a flurry, off to reside in the trees once more. Now dismissed by the bard. His attention snapped back, "Yes, I suppose it would."

He didn't talk much after that. Yennefer had the inkling she touched a nerve. Even though Jaskier assured her she said nothing wrong, it still gnawed at her. It wasn't her place to ask. She scarcely knew him. 

Perhaps she should try getting to know him. Until they reached Kagen at least. Which wouldn't be all that long now. But long enough on horse back. She would offer to cast a portal, but given Jaskier's state it wouldn't be wise.

Yennefer had purchased herself a sturdy mount with a nice black coat after a while of walking. Roach could only carry so much after all-though Geralt did dismount from time to time to give the girl a break. Jaskier was having a mighty fun time braiding flowers into Roach's mane. And now suffering from a sore backside. Oof.

"So, Jaskier." Yennefer looked to the bard, reins held tight in her grip. It wasn't often she rode a horse. And one could tell. 

The bard hummed, leaning back against the man behind him. A perk he supposed. "Yes?" He tried not to take in just how comforting it was to be wrapped up in his Witcher's arms. Geralt just didn't want him to slip off Roach, surely. 

"Care to tell us more of your birth? Not often you hear about rituals involving leshens resulting in children." That was true, very true. 

"If I recall correctly, mother told me the Earl had planned on clearing out a nearby forest. To make way for a new manor." He rolled his eyes. "She was upset about it. She's one of those nature types, you know." Jaskier found his hands had come to rest on the leather clad arm that wrapped around him.

"And the forest belonged to the leshen."

"Fabulous, Geralt. Yes. Course they didn't know this at first. But once they started clearing land, oh boy, was it furious. Started hunting his men down one by one. Set its wolves on them. So they set out great big traps." He paused, "For the wolves. I don't think they were dumb enough to believe they could capture the leshen."

"And my mother was livid when the Earl came to her with one of their pelts. Gave him an earful. Chewed him out. He didn't do a thing about it, because she was pregnant with me at the time."

"She was weak and so was I. The doctors didn't think either of us were going to make it. And what does she do? This heavily pregnant woman-she goes! In the dead of night, no less, with the damned pelt to apologise-to the great big beast that's been killing her husband's men left and right! What a mad woman. No sense of self preservation."

Geralt's lips twitched. So that's where he got it from.

"And, from what she can recall, it takes the hide. And then she goes into labor! Can you believe it? Not yet born and still with a flare for the dramatics. She can't remember much of what happened, but she swears if the leshen weren't there neither of us would have made it."

"It could have healed you both. I've seen it." Geralt comments. And he seems a tad distracted, because trying to imagine That scene is leaving him with quite the picture. "Was the manor still built?"

"Oh heavens no, turns out watching your bloody wife emerge from the brush holding a newborn with this hulking tree beast looming behind her when she tells you you're moving is very, very convincing."

Yennefer chuckles, "Whatever became of the leshen, do you know?" 

"As far as I know it's still in its forest.... which isn't that far off from where we're headed, now that I think about it..." The Earl had moved them as far away from the land as he could. Jaskier hadn't even thought about it. Yet he realized that they must have traveled through that forest countless times on their adventures. With all the traveling they did it was hard to keep track.

"Jaskier." And Geralt says his name in such a way that the bard knows that he's been read like a book. He just rolls his eyes and gives Geralt's arm a squeeze. 

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it. Probably doesn't remember me anyhow."

\---

"Geralt, we really aught to start thinking of names."

The phrase was completely out of left field and caught the Witcher off guard. A hum left him as he processed it, hands still holding the canteen as he filled it. Names. Names-the plurality of it caused a brief flash of panic to run through him. Until he realized they couldn't very well decide on just one. They didn't even know what they were having.

".... Griffin." 

Jaskier almost jumped, "Where-" but there wasn't a creature in sight. "Oh-oh, for a name?" It did sound rather charming, and it'd be a nice story to tell. He wondered how that Griffin was doing anyhow. He hoped all was well. "I like it. Now, what of a girl name?"

"...." Only a grunt of a response.

"Because I was thinking something-" and the conversation went on. And on. Names batted about back and forth. Neither of them finding one that fit. They still had some months to go before they had to decide. Jaskier was sure they'd figure it out. 

A few days down the line and the bard was the first to return to the path. Not going to go into much detail but Jaskier's constant need to relieve himself just so happened to line up with the others this time around.

And as the first to arrive, he was the first to come across the scene. 

"I do believe those are not your things." Jaskier sneered at the man. 

The thief didn't look surprised, not in the slightest. And it was then Jaskier realized that this was no thief. After all his time with Geralt he could smell a bounty hunter from a mile away. If Geralt of all people didn't know about his presence, well, then he had reason to worry. No telling how long he had been tailing them. 

"No need to get defensive, Julien." Ugh, that name sounded foul coming from this man. "Why don't you make this easy on me, hm? Your father's been searching high and low for you now."

"I know who you're referring to, and that lousy sack of withered potatoes is not, and never has been, my father." Jaskier spits, "What, pray tell, does the Earl want of me now? I know it's certainly not to catch up."

"He's put a hefty sum on your head for your safe return. Word is he's trying to get in good with this new business partner of his." Oh he didn't like the sound of that. "Says the man has... a particular taste in omegas." And there it was. 

Jaskier didn't know what made him want to retch more. Knowing the man before him knew his status. Or finding out there was a chance the Earl had let this news slip to a bunch of bounty hunters. Well, the news that he was trying to hand him off for some business venture also made his blood run cold.

It was all bad. Sick. Twisted.

Jaskier scowled at the man, "Well you can take your bounty and you can shove it. I'm not going anywhere. Least of all with you." His heart pounded away in his chest, so loud he could hear it in his ears. 

He was not some pet one could pass about whenever they so desired. He was not a thing. Certainly not a good to be traded off to some perverted alpha he knew nothing of. 'Particular taste' yeah right. He knew the kind of company the Earl kept. He's seen how they treated their 'mates'. If he could call them that.

"How you wound me. For an omega you sure do have a mouth on you." Jaskier say a glint behind the man's back, something in his hand. It wasn't until he saw the blade that he began to truly panic. "Maybe I'll do your mate a favor and teach you how a good omega should behave-" the Earth began to shift underfoot. 

There. There's that feeling. 

Jaskier wouldn't be going with that man after all. And the bounty hunter would be having a hell of a time trying to work his way out of those gnarled tree roots that had so suddenly sprung out from the ground and twisted around him. Jaskier didn't care if he starved before he could.

Needless to say Jaskier had one hell of a time explaining the scene to his companions. But he absolutely did Not tell them about the Earl. All he said was that the man was a no good thief who threatened him. And he refused to elaborate on the matter. 

He didn't have to, turns out. The second he mentioned being threatened the witcher-the Witcher actually growled. Growled. Deep in his chest. Jaskier almost bared his throat at the display, but he knew the growl was not aimed towards him. 

Later, when they had traveled quite a ways from where they left the 'thief', Geralt would catch himself nearly marking the bard with his scent. Which may have gone unnoticed by Jaskier, but not by Yennefer. She almost wanted to shout at him to do it. Honestly the act was ridiculous.

These two were just ridiculous.

Looks like they could use her help after all.


	6. Braids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead I'm just tired and broke

"Oh well this is just wonderful." Jaskier said, voice bitter as he huddled by the fire. The storm had come on so quick. Pounding down on the trio out of nowhere. They were lucky to have found this cave for shelter. But still, it managed to soak them all down to the bone.

Their clothes were laid out to dry. Everyone was stripped down to their unders. Jaskier's chemise was clinging to his skin. He didn't like it. But, he also didn't like the idea of sitting naked on the ground. The fire should dry him up anyhow.

"We're so close to Kagen too." All this travel was making him antsy. He wanted to sleep. In a nice bed. One that he wouldn't have to leave so early in the morning. And make a nest. A nice, cozy nest. Of blankets and pillows and things that comforted him. He wanted so much.

"Oh write a song about it." Yennefer grumbled, wringing out her hair. So long. How did she keep it from getting in the way-her and Geralt.

"Don't encourage him."

Jaskier side eyed Geralt, huffing. "I don't need encouragement. And just for that I'll make two songs out of it." As soon as he was good and dry, that is. No sense in getting his lute all soggy. 

Yennefer came beside him to warm up beside the fire, hair still a damned mess.

"That's it, turn around." Jaskier demanded, turning towards her with his hands in his lap.

"What? Why-"

"I'd listen to him if I were you." Geralt chuckled, "He'll never shut up otherwise."

"Give me some credit." Jaskier huffed, shuffling forward when Yennefer turned her back to him. "I don't know how you two manage with all this." He gathers all her hair into his hands, combing through raven locks with practiced fingers. Starting at the ends.

"I do have a spell for this, you know." She sounds amused at his insistence.

"Magic cannot compare to the expert hands of Julien Alfred Pankratz." Her hair's still damp and he's finding bits of leaves trapped in the strands. He carefully picks them out. 

He takes his time, weaving one strand over the other. Tiny flowers in deep purples and blacks, precious whites and blues begin to bloom along the braid as he works. 

Geralt watches from a distance, warmth settling in his chest when the two of them begin to laugh as they chat. 

Perhaps this could work. Now, just to find out what this was.

"No-swallowed whole?" Yennefer turns to look at the bard in disbelief.

"I didn't believe it either, til he came stumbling into the tavern covered in its guts. He reeked." Jaskier snickered, eyes catching Geralt's through the flames. He presses his lips together, humming innocently. "All done here." He scoots back, giving her some space.

Yennefer pulls the intricate braid forward, eyes catching on the flowers. "Well I'll be, you've got some magic in you after all, Pankratz."

Jaskier shrugs, "Well, I have been practicing." Now, "Your turn, dear wolf." 

"No."

Jaskier pouts, "Come now, Geralt. Your hair's a mess. One little braid." He holds up a finger.

"Yes, Geralt. It's a rat's nest." Yennefer stands, a new dress suddenly melting onto her form. Before either of them can question it she says, "Well someone has to scope out the area." And she wanted to give the two some privacy as well. See if she could nudge them along.

"It's pouring rain! Yennefer-"

"I am a mage, you know." She flicks Jaskier's ear as she walks by. "I'll be back soon. Don't get too comfortable. Or do. Give me something fun to come back to."

Geralt huffs, "Don't stray too far. There may be more thieves out there." And with this rain he couldn't smell or hear anything outside their shelter.

"I can handle myself."

"I know."

Ah, yes. Thieves. Definitely not bounty hunters or anything. Jaskier was going to regret not telling the truth. He just knew it. He'll tell them later. After they reached his Nana's.

It was just a few moments since she left. And Jaskier felt nervous. After all he hadn't been alone with the witcher for some time now. He could feel that piercing gaze on him already. It felt ridiculous. Geralt would never hurt him. He knew that.

"Jaskier." His eyes darted to his side. Something heavy draped over his shoulders. It was warm. And it smelled of leather, and something else so familiar yet he couldn't pinpoint it. All he knew was that it was Geralt. 

"Oh." Jaskier held the cloak tightly, looking up just in time to catch a smile. "You can smile around me, you know." He teases, "I don't bite."

"Now that I know for a fact is a lie." Geralt takes his seat beside him by the fire. "Or don't you remember?"

Jaskier pauses, and then it clicks. "I-well I can't help what my heat brain makes me do. Heavens-I didn't leave a mark, did I?" His hands leave the warmth of the cloak, investigating the Witcher's neck. Not a scratch. Save for some old scars from past fights.

"You'd have to bite a lot harder to do that, lark." There was something soft to his voice. He sat still, turning towards Jaskier as his hands continued to search. 

The soft touches only continued, the bard trailing his fingers along Geralt's skin. His neck. His shoulder. That little bit of chest his shirt didn't quite cover. He hums, "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" Jaskier pauses, taking his hands away, only to have them end up in Geralt's hold. And something about that made his heart skip. 

"When we..." He glanced down, it didn't take Jaskier long to realize just what he was looking at. 

"Oh-ohhh, I-I said a lot of things. Didn't I?" His cheeks flushed. "Don't think I remember. You'll have to refresh my memory."

Never should have said that, Jaskier realized. He didn't think Geralt would take it so seriously. 

He suddenly found himself in the Witcher's lap, giving a surprised yelp as he was made to straddle him. "Geralt!" 

"It was after a hunt." He begins, "You have to remember that. Some crazed wild boar."

"Can't say I do. It all got a little blurry after... you know. I wasn't meant to start my heat then." He suddenly realized, like a lamp had suddenly been lit. Yes-all of his past heats had been exactly such and such days apart. This one had come on weeks early. 

"Oh?"

"I think something must have jump-started it. Hm, wonder what it could have been." He mused, playful as he lets his hands rest on Geralt's shoulders. Now relaxed in his lap. "Certainly not the sight of you. Bare chested. All... drenched in sweat. Trying to wash out your armor in the stream." His face was getting flushed just thinking about it. 

"Certainly not." Geralt chuckled, wrapping his arms around him. "Must have been something you ate." 

"Must have." Jaskier's fingers found themselves running through Geralt's hair. "I do remember getting wet."

"You waded into the river because you refused to wait for me to finish." He recalls, "Do you remember now?"

Wading in knee deep water, just to get to Geralt in time. Yes. He remembered that vividly. The water had been so cold but did nothing to cool him down. All he saw and all he knew was Geralt. Get to Geralt. Alpha-

"I think I do. I believe you had to carry me out of said river too. Also believe I convinced you the tent would more than suffice. You wanted to wait until we had a room at an inn."

"I wanted you to be comfortable."

"How sweet." Jaskier's lips twitch into a smile. "Anyways... I do believe I said a lot of things that night. Which in particular were you asking about?" His fingers trail along his cheeks, brushing Geralt's damp hair out of his face. It feels so natural. Touching him like this. Being so close.

Geralt hums as he looks up at him. "I believe you asked me to mark you." Jaskier's face went beet red. "'Let everyone know I belong to the White Wolf' is how you put it." And his tone, Jaskier swears he's teasing. 

"Don't mock me, witcher." Jaskier scoffs.

"Think I'll do what I like." Geralt's arms tighten around him, and only now do they realize exactly how close they are. Practically sharing the same breath.

There's a pause as yellow meets blue. Jaskier's fingertips trail over a faint scar along his witcher's bottom lip as he parts his own, "Will you?" He says quietly, barely a whisper.

"Yes." 

He doesn't expect his lips to be so soft. They're both still wet and soggy and cold from the rain, but Jaskier feels so much warmth the moment they make contact.

His hands take hold of Geralt's shoulders as he rises up, heart pounding in his chest. He relishes in the look of surprise that crosses Geralt's face when the witcher suddenly finds himself on his back. "You know, I don't think Yennefer will be back too soon." Jaskier hums.

"Oh?" Geralt leans up, "Suppose we have some time then."

"Suppose we do."  
\---

The bard and his witcher find themselves winding down in their shelter, the storm having now died down. It's quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the faint sound of rustling leaves. 

Jaskier sighs, fingers trailing over a tender bite on his chest. It's not a claiming mark, but he still wasn't so sure if that was what they wanted just yet. 

He's quick to snag Geralt's shirt when the witcher has his back turned. Thinking himself quite clever with the swap. It's noticed right away, of course. But Jaskier looks too content for there to be any objections. The bard hands Geralt his coat, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Hmm." Geralt leans into him, ever so slightly. Yet something's amiss. "It's quiet."

"As opposed to three minutes ago?" Jaskier chuckles, but the look on his witcher's face draws him to a pause. He looks towards the mouth of the cave. ".... Surely, she'd have been back by now."

Geralt grunts, moving to grab his boots. Jaskier hurries to get dressed himself. At least their clothes are dry now. He didn't have a good feeling about this. 

"I'll go search, you," Geralt puts a hand out to stop him from following. "... You're not going to stay even if I tell you, who am I kidding? Stay close." 

"So glad you've figured that one out."  
\---  
They did, eventually, find the mage. Not too far from their camp either. And surrounded by unconscious-hopefully, at least-men. Bandits, Jaskier presumed. But this far from the path? These were no highwaymen. 

"Well, nice of you two to finally show up. Have fun? Cuz you reek of it." Yennefer wipes her hands on her dress, giving one of the men a swift kick for good measure. She's winded, but doesn't seem harmed. Her eyes land on Jaskier. "You, you have some explaining to do. Come here." She scolds him like he were a pup.

"What-me? What did I do?" He steps forward.

"Were you planning on telling us there's a bounty on your head? Or did that just slip your mind?" 

Jaskier freezes. "I... I meant to tell you both, I-"

"When, Jaskier? How long have you known? Or is it a safe bet to say that was no ordinary thief a while ago?"

"Since then-I was just thinking of a good way to tell you. I swear." Jaskier runs his hands through his hair, whine bubbling in his throat.

"I think 'oh by the way I have a bounty on my head' would have been good enough!" Yennefer snapped, "Do you know how bad this could have been?! You could have been off to become some lord's pet by now-"

"You think I don't know that?!"

"For fuck's sake-Geralt! Say something, instead of just standing there-"

"I already knew, Yennefer." Geralt puts his hand up. He's known all along there was a price on Jaskier's head.

Jaskier's eyes lock onto him, taking a step back. Away from the witcher. "You knew? What? This whole time then?" He sees him open his mouth to speak, "And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want to stress you, not with-" he grunts, eyes flicking down to Jaskier's stomach. 

Yennefer stops, feeling a sudden chill in the air. The forest suddenly feels very dark. And vast. Her eyes fall on a tree. It looks... off. The way it juts from the earth. Gnarled and crooked. But it's too dark to make out anything else.

"What good that did then!" He barks out a bitter laugh, ready to call this a night. Throw the whole ordeal in the bin. When a thought occurs to him. And from the look in Geralt's eyes he knows exactly what's on the bard's mind. 

The tree begins to move. Geralt is the second to notice. It's branches are not branches, Yennefer realizes. She can see it wrenching itself free from the earth. 

"Jaskier-"

"That's why you came looking for me." The revelation has his eyes welling up with tears. "Not-not because we've known each other for years and you missed me or anything. Not because you actually cared! All you cared about was your fucking silver!" He laughs as though it had been obvious from the start. And he felt a fool for believing otherwise.

"Jaskier do you honestly believe I'd turn you in?" Geralt grabs his arm. "I was looking for you so I could warn you. Now, you can choose to believe me or not, but right now we need. To leave."

Glowing eyes pierce the darkness, drawn to the bard's shouting. The leshen shakes its antlers, freeing them from the gnarled vines that ensnared them. 

"I'm not going anywhere, least of all with you! Not until you answer me-" a howl cuts through the air. Jaskier feels the hair at the back of his neck stand up. Geralt's already unsheathing his sword, Yennefer pulling the bard behind them. 

It's the wolves that reach them first. The second they come near Yennefer summons a small forcefield to keep them at bay, keeping one hand on Jaskier. Yet they haven't attacked. Not yet. 

The wolves circle the field, only one comes to sit directly in front of them. Waiting. Their master is approaching steadily. And by the looks of things their master is massive.

"Fuck."

"I can summon a portal but I don't think either of you are going to like it."

Jaskier, cheeks still stained with tears, is quiet. Too quiet for the bard.

"Not if it hurts Jaskier." Geralt growls.

"Not leaving me many options here, are you?"

Jaskier is transfixed, pushing past them without a single word. His eyes haven't left the leshen, not for a second. And he realizes with every step it takes, the closer it gets, that it doesn't wish them harm. If it had he doubted it would be moving so calmly. 

"Drop the shield." He mumbles, hand on the blade of Geralt's sword, causing him to lower it. But only a bit.

"Like hell I-"

Jaskier turns, eyes black as pitch. Dark veins stretching across now pale skin. "Yennefer." His voice sounds unlike himself. Echoey, almost. 

She's hesitant. And in the end she only relents when she comes to realize the creature hasn't even made a move on the unconscious bounty hunters. She's ready to summon it again at a moment's notice.

The second it's down the wolves swarm them, nudging Jaskier's legs and attacking him with harmless nips and countless licks. They whine, tails wagging so fiercely it shakes their entire forms and nearly swipes Yennefer off her feet.

Geralt slowly sheaths his sword, keeping his hand at the ready. He's stiff. He doesn't enjoy having Jaskier so close to danger-he never should have let him leave the cave. 

But then he hears a laugh. It's Jaskier, staring up at the leshen with a nervous smile. "You remember me." It isn't a question. "But I was just a babe. How..."

"I would recognize my own kin." The leshen's voice is a garbled hiss, quiet, yet it echoes through the trees around them. Moss clings to its jaw. The deer skull it calls its head is old, stained from the years. Cracked. There's a single arrow jutting out from one of these cracks. It doesn't seem to cause it any pain. "I've been watching you. Through the trees. You've passed through my forest countless times. Would have made my presence known had this one," it turns its head towards Geralt. "Not been so quick to draw his blade."

"That's just Geralt for you." Jaskier heard a grunt beside him. "He's protective, is all."

"I see..."

"Do... you have a name?" Jaskier feels like he's being stared down, he's not sure he likes it. When the leshen opens its mouth and releases a low, hissing series of clicks, he presses his lips together. "I don't know if I can pronounce that-how about Pine?"

The leshen tilts its head, "Pine." It echoes, narrowing its gaze.

"Geralt this is getting ridiculous." Yennefer hisses behind him. "He's gone and named the bloody thing."

Pine flicks its gaze upon her, clicking. "If I had wanted to harm you, dear sorceress, I would have already done so." It gestures at her feet. Several roots snake their way through the undergrowth, circling their feet. "Now, Jaskier." Pine holds out a gnarled hand, one much larger than his own.

It's reflex that makes him take it. And in the second he does Pine starts. The witcher puts an arm out, pushing Jaskier back with the sudden movement. The wolves growl and he growls back. 

"You..." Its eyes train on Geralt, "Laying with the Witcher-" the branches above their heads begin to shake, "Carrying his spawn-" Pine frets, and the wolves begin to growl as they stand protectively between the bard and the witcher, snapping their teeth. "You've made a mistake, child."

"I know he's a little rough but come on-"

"No." Pine grabs him by the shoulders, he stumbles forward. "You do not understand. Four eyes but only two will see. Two mouths and only one may speak. Blood, death, and betrayal will mark their beginning and follow at their feet. You do not want this, Jaskier."

"Who are you to tell me what I want?" Jaskier scoffs, grabbing the hands that hold him. "Now I may not know their fate, but I can ready them for it. I can give them the tools." Vines begin to twist around the leshen's arms, green and vibrant. "If you think I haven't thought about the world they'd be coming into you're wrong. I know it's cruel. Selfish. I know that better than anyone. I can prepare them for that."

The vines twist and curl around ancient bones and bits of bark. Not meant to harm, but to reinforce. Flowers bloom. "And I can show them how to look for the good in all things as well. Like I had to learn."

Pine falters, releasing Jaskier. "This is a mistake."

"Then let me make it." The bard fixes his coat, dusting off old dirt and bits of decay. 

It's quiet, save for the small whine from one of the wolves. Jaskier strokes its fur as the leshen sighs. "Very well. I cannot leave this forest, but... if ever you shall need of me, speak to the trees. It will get to me." It pauses then, hand coming back to brush Jaskier's hair from his face. "Oh, dear child... I had almost forgotten." Its thumb brushes over the faint scars from where his antlers once sat proudly. "Now this, I must see to." And with that it, along with its wolves, all vanish. Jaskier blinks, eyes falling back to their brilliant blue.

Yennefer drops her arms, feeling as though if she pinched herself she would wake. "I... I'm sorry are we just going to ignore the fact that it said 'two mouths'? Two. As in more than one?"

"I'm sorry, I was busy trying not to piss myself." Jaskier hisses, feeling a chill run up his spine. "As friendly as it were, still, mighty terrifying up close."

"You should see one when they're not friendly." Geralt comments, and at that Jaskier shivers once more.

"But-two! Am I the only one who cares here? Jaskier-you're having twins." Yennefer almost laughs, if only for how pale Geralt now seems.

"You don't know that. Maybe they're just hideously deformed." Jaskier places a hand on his stomach. "And I'll love them regardless. Now, if you'll pardon me..." He turns, making it three, four steps, until he finally reaches a tree against which he can lean and hurl up the contents of his stomach. 

Yennefer sighs. "Fool..." She goes to tend to him regardless. 

Geralt is left aside, wondering how his luck came to be that he's managed to knock up possibly the most complicated of omegas on the continent.


	7. Kaer Morhen

"Geralt, help me down." They were well into Kagen now, Jaskier could spot his Nana's farm in the distance already. He grips the Witcher's arms as he slides off Roach. 

"You're sure she's expecting us?" Yennefer calls out. She has every reason to be weary. If it weren't for all the goats roaming the pasture you'd think this place was long abandoned. 

Jaskier was already well down the cobblestone path by now, well out of earshot. The mage sighs, "You know, for someone say, five months along?"

"Sounds about right." Geralt runs a hand down Roach's back, watching after his bard. 

"He moves quite fast. He's not showing much either. It's making me worried." Yennefer dismounts, smoothing out her skirt. "Especially given how much he eats."

"He isn't human, Yen. Not fully. And I don't know about you but I'm not about to go back into that forest and ask 'Pine' how Leshen's reproduce." Geralt got a headache just thinking about it. "Witchers are meant to be sterile anyhow."

Yennefer had a little something to say to that, but she chose otherwise. "Guess all we can really do is wait. Surely the little ones will let us know when it's time."

Geralt didn't know if he liked the way that sounded. "One little one I think I could handle. Two?"

"Well you're shite out of luck, aren't you? You get what you get, witcher. Just be glad it's not a whole litter."

Jaskier approaches the house, just in time for the door to swing open. He beams at the familiar face before him. The woman is tall and fierce, with a smile that could melt snow. And it looks as though she's been hard at work lately. Though you'd only know it from the dirt, sweat, and the blood staining her apron. She's bright and glowing otherwise. "Oh-" she comes to greet him regardless of all the muck, pulling Jaskier into a crushing hug.

She smells like goat.

"Jaskier! Jaskier, oh it's been ages! I haven't seen you since you were but a wee pup, refusing to wear your trousers and making me chase you around the estate." She touches his cheek, smiling at him warmly. As a mother would. Normally Jaskier would appreciate it, but the blood on her hands makes him want to retch. And not for the usual reasons. 

Jaskier chuckles, "You haven't aged a day, Nana Prim." He smiles up at her as she pulls back, turning to introduce her to the others. "This is Yennefer-"

"Always lovely to meet a fellow mage." Yennefer thinks twice about offering her hand. 

"And this is Geralt." Jaskier nudges him playfully, as he's busy getting stared down by the towering mage. "This is my nanny-former, nanny. I should say. Primrose."

Prim may be smiling, but Geralt's seen enough to know that he does not want to be on her bad side. He gathers she feels extremely protective towards Jaskier, as many betas are towards the children they're made to look over. Mages more so, it'd seem.

It's why mages were so popular to have as midwives or nannies in some areas of the continent. At least back when Jaskier was a pup. Betas in general were all well and good, but magic certainly helped. Especially healing magic. And his mother likely needed all the help she could get given his... nature.

"Well, I would make some tea but it's been quite busy." Prim breaks the quiet, seemingly done with her scrutinizing. "Just had a doe kid a two headed buckling." Hence the blood and mess. "Quite a day it's been."

"Heaven's-is it still alive?" Yennefer is very intrigued, meanwhile Jaskier is only reminded of Pine. It makes his stomach flip.

"Unfortunately nature won this round. The mother had another, so not all is lost." She gestures inside her home, allowing Jaskier in first. He seemed eager to have a nice lie down.

She shows them inside, chuckling. "If you'd like to see it, it's still in the barn. Wrapped up. I know it's morbid but I'd like to save the bones, so no funny business." She gestures around, "Make yourselves comfortable, I know it must have been a long journey."

Jaskier groans, "You don't know the half of it..." He's face first in a pile of furs, no doubt it's meant for a dog to lie down, but he's too tired to care. And it's too soft for him to leave. Even if it does smell like wet mutt.

Geralt nudges Jaskier's foot, amused. "Weren't you the one going on and on about having a bed?"

"Ah, Jaskier. Before I forget-" Prim shuffles through some papers on a table by the door, eventually nabbing up a letter. "Your mother sent this for you. Got here this morning."

He groans, "Geralt."

The witcher rolls his eyes, holding his hand out for the letter. He breaks the wax seal and gives Jaskier a once over before reading. When he's finished he grunts. And that's when the bard lifts his head. 

"What? What's it say?"

"Remember when we ran into your friend a few days ago? Well, it sounds like he's 'fixed it'-" the letter is quickly snatched from his hands, Jaskier holding the parchment so close to his face. 

"The earl was attacked while on a hunt. And now he has... oof, talk about a thorn in the side. It's getting bigger everyday, she says." Jaskier grimaces, "Sounds like he's bedridden."

"And pissed. Keep reading."

Jaskier frowns, eyes roaming the paper. "No... dammit-we just got here!"

"Could one of you clue me in?" Yennefer pipes up.

"Mother has reason to believe the earl knows where we were headed. Where we are now. Though she isn't sure if he knows the why." He hoped, prayed even, that he didn't. Heaven knows what the earl would do. Given that he supposedly promised Jaskier to some prick alpha lord or what have you. And as he was still unmarked, a pregnancy wouldn't deter him.

Geralt walks over to one of the windows, peeking through the curtains. "Which means we can't stay here." 

"As much as I wish you could, I don't think I like the idea of bounty hunters knocking on my door either." Prim frowns, "Even if I could take them all myself, I wouldn't risk it with Jaskier."

"Well where else are you going to hole up for winter?" Yennefer places a hand on the downtrodden bard's shoulder. He's miserable and pouting at the idea of having to travel even more so. "Or for however long it takes for the bastard to keel over and the bounty hunters to realize they're not getting paid."

Geralt pauses, letting the curtain fall back. "I do know a place. But we need to move quickly. Especially if we want to make it there before the first frost. And... we'll need to be a little more discreet." He glanced to Yennefer. "A witcher and his bard is one thing."

"Bard and his witcher." Jaskier quips.

Geralt continues. "But a witcher, a bard, and a mage is another. They've seen you with us, so they'll be looking for three travelers on the roads. Not just two."

"Well, that sounds boring. Fine, I have my own business to tend to anyways." Yennefer doesn't like the idea of not being there for Jaskier. Maybe she'll give this earl a visit herself. After all she's heard of him he deserved one. "But, if anything happens you will contact me. I'm not missing the birth for anything, Geralt. You can quote me on that."

"And where would we be going?" Jaskier looks at him, balling the letter up. 

Geralt looks from Yennefer to Jaskier, sighing. "Let's... get some rest first, I'll keep watch. We'll set out in the morning." To that Jaskier huffs. 

This felt like one big back and forth adventure.  
\---

Kaer Morhen.

"There's an old stronghold there, and it's only accessible by one route. Hard to find." Geralt had told him. "We won't be alone."

"It's not haunted, is it?" Jaskier was still mighty irritable about having to leave once more. But it would be worth it, he told himself. 

"You'll wish it was."

It took them several, long, long days to reach it. And Jaskier was getting more antsy by the second. There's a long bleating trailing behind them and he turns his head to look at Geralt and scowls. "Did we have to bring one of the goats?"

He cocks a brow, "Thought you'd like a snack on the road." When Jaskier balks he laughs, "It's for a friend."

When Jaskier's feet touch the ground of the keep he groans, stretching himself out. "No offense, Roach. But you're mighty uncomfortable after a while." The mare nudges his arm, stomping a hoof. "I jest!" He strokes her nose, reaching into his pockets for some sugar cubes while Geralt starts the process of relieving the mount of their things. Jaskier's things, mostly. He tried to pack lightly.

Jaskier would help but Geralt wouldn't let him lift a finger. 

"Not many people here, is there?" He was expecting a little more hustle and bustle, but it looked like no one was around just yet. 

"There'll be more in a few days. Witchers come here to rest between missions. Or used to. Now we only get a few during the winters." Geralt stops, growing still. So still in fact that Jaskier begins to grow uneasy, he glances over, turning his head just in time to catch a glint of a blade right as the witcher snatches it from the air. It was such a sudden thing that Jaskier yelped, hugging his arms around Roach as though the horse would save him.

But Geralt's chuckling. "Your aim could use some work, Lambert." Jaskier sees a man approach, and he only calms once he and Geralt greet each other.

"Can't believe I missed, I was aiming for that big head of yours." The man, Lambert, grins as he grips Geralt's arm. "Who's the lad?"

Lad? Jaskier mouths, narrowing his eyes. 

"This is Jaskier. Jaskier, Lambert. Don't take anything he says to heart. He's an ass." Geralt squeezes Jaskier's shoulder as he walks around the horse. "Is Eskel here yet?"

"He's around." Lambert is giving the bard a good once over. Jaskier should be used to this by now, but he's only had one witcher look him head to toe before and he still wasn't quite used to that. Even if Geralt was a friend. It was the eyes. Always the eyes that did him in. 

Jaskier is keeping himself busy with Roach, back facing the strange witcher man. Never a good thing to do.

He freezes up when Lambert is suddenly right behind him, and-sniffing, him. He's so shocked at the audacity of this man that it doesn't occur to him what he could be sniffing out. Lambert has no sense of personal space, he can feel his breath at the nape of his neck. It's warm.

Roach becomes restless as Geralt gets wind. He's beside Jaskier in an instant, growling and grabbing the back of Lambert's shirt just to get him to back off. 

"Geralt-" Jaskier looks back, face completely flushed. And it only gets worse when he sees the absolute fire in Geralt's eyes. The growling between the both of them isn't helping either. Oh the omega in him is screaming right now. 

"You two reek of each other. He your little play thing, Geralt? He's pretty, I'll give you that." Lambert shakes his hand off him. "Take it you're not keen on sharing then?"

"Let me make this clear, Lambert. Jaskier is free to fool around with whoever he so chooses, but do not, pull a stunt like that again." They're staring each other down so fiercely Jaskier was worried they'd melt out each other's eyes.

"I'm not late to the reunion, am I?" Ah, and another voice. Thankfully it sounds more friendly. 

"Good, Eskel's here." It's Lambert who breaks first, "Try not to rile Geralt up too much, think he's getting grouchy in his age."

"It feels like I just walked in on something-is... that a goat?"

"It's a friend, for your Little Bleater." Geralt huffs and Jaskier has to resist the urge to laugh. This felt like some inside joke he wasn't yet privvy to.

"And this is Jaskier, don't get too close to him or Geralt will chew your head off." Lambert scoffs in his direction.

"Believe me, he'll do that on his own." Geralt catches Jaskier's eyes, lips quirked into a smirk. "I've seen it." He was never going to live that damn squirrel down. Speaking of...

"Yes, yes. Now that the pleasantries are over-I'm starved."  
\---

One dinner, one dinner was all it damn took for the witchers to get the story out of them. Out of Jaskier, anyhow.

"Right, let's just get this over with, shall we?" Jaskier sighs, looking around at them all. Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel. Geralt. "My mother did not 'lay' with a Leshen, Lambert. You can get that image out of your head right now." 

"You're pulling our legs! You have to be. There's no-" Jaskier turns to him, eyes completely black. "-Well... that's something."

"This is all a little much, next you're going to tell us is the child you're carrying is Geralt's!" Eskel sits back, laughing. He could smell it on Jaskier the moment he saw him, being a beta he was well attuned to the sort. It was news for Lambert, however. 

Geralt has a drink. Lambert chokes on his.

Jaskier joins in the laughter, leaning forward until he can rest his arms on the table. He lets Eskel have his moment. "Children, actually."

"Geralt!" Eskel shouts.

"I know, shocked me too."

Vesemir is still processing everything. From Jaskier's leshen status. To the earl's bounty. To the pregnancy. "I think I just grew a few more gray hairs." He grumbled, dragging a hand down his face. "Well, only one thing to do I suppose." He raises his glass, "Let's drink! To Geralt, for managing the impossible." 

"Getting someone pregnant?" Lambert guesses.

"Managing not to lose his damn mind during all this, how about that?" Vesemir smiles, twinkle in his eye. 

"And to Jaskier!" Eskel begins, "For putting up with the bastard all these years!"

"I'll drink to that-"

"No you will not." Geralt takes the pint from him, sliding it over to Lambert who welcomed it wholeheartedly. He ignores the pout on Jaskier's lips. "Eat, Jaskier."

That night, after a nice, warm and very much needed bath Jaskier found himself all stretched out on a nice bed. Any bed was nice after how long they've spent on the road. "Mm Geralt, are you going to come join me or are you going to spend the whole night sharpening that sword?" He holds an arm out towards him, but he's just out of reach.

"Get some rest, lark." Geralt chuckles, "You're gonna need it."

"Ooh? And what if I'm too wound up to sleep? You going to find some way to tire me out?"

"You're insatiable." 

"You can't blame me now, can you? You're exactly my type. White hair, broody, two-"

"Very big swords?" He quipped, taking Jaskier right back to the day they met in that tavern. Such a long time ago. Oh Posada. Can't say he missed the place. He had all he could ever want or need right here in this very room.

He hums in a very Geralt fashion, sitting up in the bed. "I was going to say 'two striking eyes the color of the sun', but yes, that too. Can't believe you didn't know I was coming on to you back then."

Geralt pauses, those same striking eyes narrowing at him. "What?"

Jaskier laughs, "Oh wow, you really didn't-I had bread down my pants and 'two hands for each of the devil's horns'! Geralt! How could you have not realized? I thought I was coming on rather strong."

"Hm." He sets his blade down, getting up from the chair. 

"Hmm?" Jaskier throws his arms up, encircling them around his witcher's shoulders when he draws near. "It's getting cold out there, wolf. You have to warm me up." He noses his neck, sighing against him. 

When Geralt begins to pull back he only succeeds in pulling Jaskier with him. A fact Geralt is amused by. He grabs hold of his wrists, attempting to gently pry him off. "I'll stoke the fire."

"You'll stoke something else." Jaskier huffs, dragging him back to bed.  
\---

Jaskier's hunger knew no bounds. It'd been a week since they came to Kaer Morhen. And day by day he found himself unable to satiate his appetite. He hadn't spoken a word about it to the others, not yet. Only Geralt He knew how dangerous it was, keeping such secrets. Believe him, he knew. 

Especially given his...

Tendencies.

Such as now.

It's Eskel who spots him from the walkways of the fort. Some distance away. How he managed to get so far without Geralt knowing is beyond him. Then again, Lambert had challenged him to a drinking game earlier. 

He decides to go fetch him. Before he gets nabbed up by something. It's a full moon and Eskel knew well enough from experience that that's when all the monsters decided to do their worst. And if anything happened to him Geralt would have his head.

And he quite liked his head. 

It looks like Jaskier is in only his sleepwear. In the snow. How he wasn't frozen solid was beyond Eskel. He supposed it was that leshen blood. He follows bare foot prints through the forest, the scent of blood and death filling him with dread.

He can spot Jaskier through the trees, body crouched low to the ground. The scent is only getting stronger now.

What was he doing?

Eskel steps closer, until he can see just what has Jaskier so taken. First he spots a deer. Killed recently. The blood coloring the snow around it still fresh. But that's not what has Jaskier preoccupied, no.

And the stench of death becomes clearer when he sees the black, crooked leg of what is no doubtedly a kikimora. No doubtedly, because he can see the rest of its body further off. Ensnared and impaled in a twisted cage of roots.

And Jaskier is going to town on that leg. Eskel can hear the crunching from where he's sat crouched. It twists his stomach. 

"I know." Geralt is beside him, looks like he was well and sober now. A little rough though. "He's graduated from squirrels. Kikimora's new on the menu."

"He'll hear us-"

"He's already heard us, we're not a threat. As long as we don't come between him and his meal." Geralt grabs his shoulder, pulling him up. 

"Tell me you saw it."

He grunts, pointing to the deer. "I came just in time to watch him tear its throat out. With his teeth."

Geralt had tracked Jaskier down no differently than how his brother in arms had. Watched him stalk a herd of deer. He did not move like a man then. The way he scrambled up that tree. A man possessed, maybe. 

Then he pounced. The second Jaskier came down on that buck it was done for. It happened so quickly. The rest of the herd scattered as it fell, Jaskier's teeth at its throat. And that's when he heard that terrible, awful screech. One he was not unfamiliar with.

In the time it took Geralt to draw his blade the kikimora had burst through the treeline. He knew there was a swamp nearby, but it was just their luck it and Jaskier would be hunting at the same time.

Jaskier stood, and for a terrible moment Geralt thought he had awoken. Because his eyes had snapped open, and for a second he swore he saw those blues that he had grown so accustomed to waking up to. Until the pitch took them again. 

The bard unleashed one long, powerful screech that shook the surrounding trees. And then that was it. And here they were now.

Suffice to say Jaskier won that battle.

Eskel was in shock and awe as Geralt recalled it. And disgust. "I think he deserves this... hearty meal, don't you?" He grimaces. "Don't think this is gonna make him sick, do you?"

"Dunno, you ever see a leshen puke before?" Geralt prompts, stepping out of the brush. This isn't the first time he's joined Jaskier on his little 'hunts', it won't be the last. He's learned that it's best not to wake him like this, he had to let him do that on his own. But Jaskier, even like this, didn't like straying far from the alpha.

He crouches near him, watching him polish off the kikimora leg. And then lick his lips. "Jaskier." He speaks softly, "How about some venison?" He slowly draws out his knife. Figure he shouldn't let him gorge himself on monster meat.

Jaskier's eyes light up, huddling closer to the witcher. Getting right up against him. 

"This... does he know about this?"

"Yes, but his... late night appetite used to be much, much smaller. This is, a little concerning."

"His belly's so small, it has to be going straight to the pups. Don't you think?" Eskel stays far, far away from the pair. It's almost morbid, watching Geralt carve out some raw flesh for the ravenous omega now clinging at his side. "Might need to start feeding him raw during the day as well."

"Might. Maybe that will help him put on some weight." Geralt pauses, watching Jaskier slowly blink. "He's waking."

Jaskier wakes up with a chunk of meat in his mouth. He mumbles something incoherent, swallowing it down and wiping his eyes. "Did it again, didn't I?" He grabs the meat Geralt offers him next with his own hands, "I'd be more upset if it didn't taste so divine." Or maybe that was just his mind tricking him. 

"... Is that a kikimora?" 

Geralt grunts.


	8. Just Desserts

"Oh I've been dreading this." Jaskier sulks, tugging at the seams of his favorite pants. He couldn't let them out anymore, there was simply no room. It looked like this new diet was exactly what the doctor ordered. He felt like he swallowed a small melon. What was he going to do when he couldn't fit into any of his trousers at all?

"Think I liked you better when you were smaller." He says, staring pointedly at his bump. Well, more than a bump. He'll take what he can get at this point. As long as they were healthy he didn't care how long they took. Well-alright that was a lie. Really wished he had asked Pine.

"Lonesome, are we?" Lambert comes around the corner, leaning against the door frame. "And I thought it was just Geralt who talked to himself."

"He doesn't talk to himself. He talks to Roach. There's a mighty big difference." Jaskier folds the pair of pants back up, lowering them back into a drawer. "And I was talking to them."

"Them who?"

"Them-" he lays a hand over his stomach, "I heard it helps them. Maybe it's silly. My mother would speak to my siblings when she was carrying."

"Huh, and here I was, thinking you were missing that white haired bastard." Lambert chuckles, "He'll be back soon. Don't fret."

Jaskier rolls his eyes, about to take his hand away when he feels a small kick. "Oh-" he almost laughs when Lambert strides over, worry etched onto his features. Witchers. Always quick to assume the worst. Well, not all of them.

"What? What is it?" Jaskier recalls Geralt asking the same, the first time. He smiles, grabbing Lambert's hand. "What are-" it seems the contact is all it needs to start up again. Lambert's eyes stare wide open at the odd sensation against his palm. 

"You and Geralt both." Jaskier smiles, releasing his hold. Yet Lambert's hand remains. He spreads his fingers out, dropping down to his knees. 

"Well I'll be damned, you really aren't just getting fat." Jaskier scowls, tugging at Lambert's ear. "Don't skin me alive just yet. I want to check something."

"And what are you-" Jaskier blinks as Lambert presses his ear against his belly. "What-what are you doin-"

"Quiet, bard." He shuts his eyes, remaining still against him. He's listening for something, sure. And Jaskier is growing anstier the longer he goes without explaining himself. And then Lambert grins, eyes beaming. "There it is."

"There what is?" These damned Wolves were going to give him a heart attack.

"That witcher heartbeat." Lambert rises, fixing the bard's shirt. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed it, when you're all curled up with the 'White Wolf'. You're carrying mutant spawn alright." 

Jaskier slides the drawer shut with a huff, "I have, actually. It's always intrigued me. Now, did you need something? Or is it a habit of yours to enter an omega's chambers unannounced?"

"You've a visitor."

"Huh."  
\---  
"Yennefer!" Jaskier is shocked to see her, but thrilled nonetheless. 

She holds him at arm's length when he draws near, smiling. "Well look at you, finally looking the part of 'ever patient omega'. Give it a few more months and I reckon you'll be fit to burst. Miss me?"

"I didn't miss that humor, that's for damn sure." He buried his face against her, finding comfort in her scent. "Mm, you ran into Geralt, didn't you? That how you found this place?"

"I weaseled it out of him one way or another." She smiles, "And, I come bearing gifts." Jaskier pulls back, looking curiously to the pack hanging from her shoulder. "Think you'll quite like them." She brings it forward, carefully lifting out a precarious parcel. Whatever it is, it clacks together once she sets it on the table.

There's a sense of... familiarity.

"Well? Come on, I'm getting old here."

He laughs, slowly tugging at the twine. The gift falls open, clacking once more until settling. Jaskier pulls the paper apart and gasps. "Yennefer..."

"Quite an impressive rack, I'd say." She muses, watching him gingerly pick up one of the antlers. Buttercups and lilacs bud among them at his touch. Each flower blossoming as Jaskier smiles, tears in his eyes. "That's what, eight points?"

He laughs, sniffling and blinking away the tears that threaten to fall. He takes each antler and holds them up to his head. "How do I look? Elegant? Regal? Regular ole' prince of the forest?" His throat feels tight, but he laughs despite himself. "Thank you, Yen. But how on earth..."

He sets the antlers down, and then takes a seat. Yennefer follows suit as she begins to tell her tale.

"Well, I knew he wasn't going to just stop sending those bounty hunters after you. And I just happened to be... nearby."

"You knew he was weak and desperate." Jaskier grinned. "And I do believe you've grown fond of my charming banter."

"Right. Surely." Yennefer gives him a thin smile. "It was too easy, to tell you the truth. Convincing the guards to let me onto the grounds. Bunch of dolts, really. Told the lot I was a healer. Always seems to work." She shakes her head, "Regardless, I planned on making it quick. He was dying anyways."

He leans forward, "You planned on it... but something tells me it didn't turn out so."

"The herbs I gave him would have stopped the pain, technically. As in it'd make him incapable of feeling such. Because he'd be dead." She was rather blunt, purple eyes flicking to meet his. "However."

"However..." He prompts.

"They reacted terribly with the herbs your mother was giving him." Jaskier sits straight up, staring at her as though he hadn't heard her right. "Your mother was poisoning him as well."

Jaskier put a hand to his mouth. Not out of disgust. Or utter shock. No. He was simply... baffled. "My own mother... huh, who knew the old bat had it in her. Bless her, cherish her to bits, but-this is just-wow."

His hands drop to his knees, squeezing them so that he may ground himself. "I knew she hated him, loathed him. But she... she was always so kind. To everyone." He never struck her as the type.

"A mother's love knows no bounds, Jaskier."

Jaskier nods, laying a hand over hers as it comes to his shoulder. "I... I need to know, did he suffer?"

"Immensely. Up until his very last breath."

He sighs, "... Good. That putrid pile of forktail dung deserved it. I hope he rots." 

Maybe Jaskier would have felt bad if he had left him alone after kicking him out. After all the years of torment. After he took his antlers. If the bastard had left it at that, then maybe. But as it were he just had to worm his way back into Jaskier's life in the worst way possible. 

The second he threatened the well-being of his unborn pups is the second Jaskier lost any shred of mercy for the man. To hell if he was unaware or not. 

"You keep scowling like that and you'll only make those crows feet worse, you know." Yennefer says softly, bringing him out of his thoughts. "You know what you need? A hot bath."  
\---  
"When you said 'bath' I didn't imagine you'd be... watching, you know." Jaskier is flushed, attempting to cover himself.

"What's the matter? You've seen me before, haven't you? Or is it less fun when the shoe's on the other foot?" She grins.

"Those were very different circumstances!"

"But you've still seen me. If it'll make you feel better you have nothing to be ashamed of." Yennefer wrings out the sponge, letting the water rain down over his head to dampen his hair. "I can see why Geralt's taken with you."

"And I, you." Jaskier is slowly relaxing, the chit chat keeping him well distracted. "Ah-maybe you can help us with something." The idea hit him brilliantly. "See, we've settled on one name. But we can't agree on another." He never thought it'd be so difficult to choose a damned name. 

Yennefer draws back, hands hovering over a selection of oils. She hesitates. "Well... what name do you have?" She returns, uncorking the small bottle.

"Griffin."

She pauses, arms resting along the tub as she stares at him. "Griffin." She repeats, "Did Geralt pick that one or did you?"

"Geralt, actually. We had a rather... interesting adventure before we ran into you."

"Course you did." She gathers the oil onto her fingers, setting the bottle down before she runs them through his hair. "Jaskier... that means 'buttercup', does it not? Maybe another flower name would suit."

He hums, leaning back against the tub, laying his head back until he can get a look at her. "Now that's an idea."

Yennefer combs her fingers through brown locks, humming an all too familiar tune. She watches him closely. And the more he relaxes the more questions she wants to ask him.

"So, why Geralt?" Now that makes him open his eyes.

"Why not Geralt?" He sits up, disturbing the water around him. "He's one of my greatest friends, we've been through a lot together. Had many great adventures too." His arms hang over the sides of the tub, fingers curling in the cool air. 

"I can think of many reasons why. Arrogance. Bullheadedness. Coarse-"

"Are you listing them alphabetically?" Jaskier groans, "Can we not do this now, Yennefer?"

"There's no better time than when the white wolf's away. Tell me, if you had a friend who was wholeheartedly head over heels for the alpha who knocked them up, and the alpha had yet to mark them, how would you feel?"

Jaskier felt touched to hear her call him a friend, and yet-

He grumbles, "Things are complicated. Besides, Geralt has no plans to retire. And this is no life for a child. What's he going to do? Skewer monsters with one hand and help change nappies with the other?" He scoffs, bringing one knee up. "I'm the one who asked him to bed, I'm the one who set the rules."

"He has a child of surprise, for fuck's sake, Jaskier. And those rules were set before either of you thought this would happen! Or even could!"

Jaskier sinks into the bath water, feeling worse for himself. He thought he could simply ignore it, but Yennefer wasn't going to allow him. She would not let him hurt himself. Geralt only saw him as a responsibility. A duty. Or that's what it looked like. Felt like.

He was only humoring the bard.

"I was there, Jaskier. On the mountain. I've seen how he's treated you for years now. And you let him do it, and for what?"

"He's my friend, Yennefer. He expresses himself in different ways, they only come off as coarse if you read them so-"

"That's a crock of shit. And I'll show you why." Yennefer grabbed the sponge once more, scrubbing Jaskier's arms and chest much too thoroughly. He was getting irritated with her roughness. The manhandling. When he jerks away from her hold he's practically scrubbed raw. "Do you see, Jaskier?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Do. You. See? Just because he has to be coarse does not mean that you have to sit there and take it. You're clean, sure. But was it worth it?" she stands up, holding out a clean towel for him to step into. 

Jaskier stands, "We all have different love languages." That was laughable. He wasn't even sure if Geralt loved him at all. It always felt as though he were only putting up with him. And now the witcher was stuck with him.

"His is not a language, it's a barrier. You do not have to adapt to his ways when he won't even open himself to you." She wraps him in his towel, and then her arms. "You deserve better, Jaskier. There's plenty of more suitable alphas out there. Many a lot less stubborn too."

There were a few in Kaer Morhen too.

Jaskier spent that night stewing in his thoughts. Thinking. Overthinking. Going over every interaction he and Geralt had over the last few months. Did the witcher really only see him as a duty after all?

It seemed so to him. 

Even if there was that little shred of hope in him wishing otherwise.

Jaskier was done trying to pretend. If Geralt wanted him after all he was going to have to prove it. He wasn't going to help him. And he wasn't going to force him.

When Geralt returned from his mission he greeted him normally. As he would have years ago. He did not run to him. Nor did he go in for a hug. No kiss. No scenting. Only a smile and a wave before he returned to his lute. 

No response.

Jaskier refrained from touching Geralt more than he had to, unless the witcher was the one to initiate. He felt touch starved by noon. 

Speaking of noon. This was usually around the time he would pester Geralt into letting him groom him. But, as they were not mates, nor were they exactly courting... 

Jaskier saw an opportunity and he seized it. Now, he wasn't about to ask another alpha to groom him when Geralt was right there in the same room. That'd be too on the nose. And Eskel was quite eager when he asked.

"I'd say you're about due for a trim." Eskel notes, carding his fingers through his hair. Right in the great hall. Well within view of the white wolf himself. Last he saw he was carving something out of wood. Jaskier couldn't see what, but he looked incredibly focused on it.

Betas and omegas always seem to gravitate towards each other. It makes them rather close. And comfortable. Most alphas don't see them as a threat. It's how Jaskier managed to get away with bedding so many omegas back when he was pretending. 

Needless to say Jaskier formed a quick friendship with Eskel right away. Helped that he was far more approachable than his brothers.

They're lounging around beside the fireplace, Jaskier feeling quite cozy as he leans against the witcher. Grooming is not so much done for the sake of cleanliness alone, it was mainly for bonding. And as it were Jaskier could use as many friends as he could get. 

"I better not smell like goat by the end of this." Jaskier teases. 

He laughs, smoothing Jaskier's hair back-much to his delight. "Think I'd need to do a lot more than just this for that to happen." 

"Oh?" He lifts his head, "How much more do you think, exactly?"

There's a grunt not far off that catches his attention. He sits up from leaning against the beta and turns his head to catch a look at Geralt. It looked like something got him a little too distracted from his carving. Whatever could that have been, he wondered.

Lambert smirks into his pint. 

This went on for quite a while. Little things at first. Jaskier was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine, he just didn't know how potent it was.

There was just one major flaw in his plan: Geralt of Rivia was a stubborn man. Luckily, so was Jaskier. But where Geralt stood firm like a great, white mountain. Jaskier pushed. And pushed. A little trickle of a stream trying to carve a path. Wear the mountain down. But it was going to take more for Geralt to get his point. Jaskier needed to turn this stream into a raging river.

Jaskier didn't even smell like Geralt at this point. They weren't sleeping together anymore. Only spoke when it was necessary. How long had it been? A month? Without Jaskier being the initiater the two scarcely touched. That fact alone pained him.

He really did wonder... if it weren't for the life in his womb, would Geralt even bother coming around at all?

He'd rather not think about it.

He'd much rather think about what Geralt's going to do once he learns he's been helping Lambert with his rut once he returns. After all, he did say he was free to fool around with whoever he wants. Lambert bore witness to that.

He was sore, satisfied, and most of all-

The scent of Lambert wasn't leaving his chambers anytime soon. Nor himself. Neither were the little marks and scratches that Jaskier wore proudly. 

He hums as his door opens, curled up by the window with a slate in hand. Trying to come up with some more flower names he thought would be suitable. "Evening, Geralt." He glances up, and he catches the exact moment the smell hits him. "You just missed Lambert."

"I can tell." There's a growl in his tone. Jaskier sees him approach the bed. His bed. Not even made. And he knows he's not standing there just to judge his untidyness. He's confirming his suspicions. "Hm."

"Rut. Hit him pretty bad." Jaskier shifts with a groan, stretching out his legs. His thighs are covered with shallow nips and bright hickies. But the most recent of which sits on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Right where a standard claim mark would lay.

And when Geralt storms over and literally yanks his shirt down to get a closer look-Jaskier can only imagine that he was thinking the same. There's some sense of relief in Geralt's next sigh. It's no claim.

He tilts his head to the side, willing himself not to bare his throat in the alpha's overbearing presence. His hands find Geralt's coat and just as he goes to pull away Jaskier yanks him right back. 

"Do you feel that, witcher?" He growls, his touch soft on his chest despite the venom in his voice. "That is but a taste of what I had to endure for twenty years."

And this is when Geralt's assumptions are confirmed. "Is that what all this has been? Trying to make me jealous." Jaskier wants to shake him. He's seething.

"If you think the answer is truly that simple then I feel sorry for you. Twenty years, Geralt. I gave you twenty years and I gave them so readily. And what for? You threw that all away in a single day. A simple apology and you coming to me with your tail tucked between your legs can't fix all that." He releases him and stands up, looking him straight in the eye. His fists hurt from how hard he's clenching them. "And it absolutely can't fix the fact that instead of letting a friend help you you decide to tear them down right along with you."

"Twenty years and yet you still don't know me." Geralt laughs. The sound is bitter. Cruel.

"Twenty years and I know you better than you know yourself. And that. That scares you." His voice is strained, tears brimming in his eyes. "Because I know-I know that everytime someone asks if witchers truly feel nothing that you don't answer them because you wish it were true. So yes, I'd say I know you quite well."

"And if you truly think that this is only a matter of jealousy then I implore you," Jaskier grabs his lute from the floor, knocking into Geralt's shoulder as he storms past. "Figure it out."

It's quiet in the room after he leaves. Save for the single, "Fuck." that slips from the witcher's lips.


	9. Nesting

Jaskier was on a mission. And he feared he may perish without seeing it through.

He had to make a nest.

A nest was just a comfortable and safe place to birth and keep the newborn pups. It had to be big enough that the omega could lay down if so desired. And soft. Warm. 

He had a good idea of how he wanted it to look. He just didn't know the where. And it was driving him up the damn wall he was so frustrated. He felt like crying. And he did. A few times. No matter how he rearranged everything he just wasn't satisfied. He knew in the end it wouldn't matter, he'd be too focused on the actual labor to care.

But as for now it consumed him.

And he was reluctant to ask Geralt for help. He was still mighty sore after chewing him out. Didn't mean he couldn't miss him. He missed his scent. It always managed to calm him down. But he wouldn't be caught dead cozying up to him without a proper apology first.

So.

Jaskier took it upon himself to slip into Geralt's room while he was busy. 

One old coat should suffice. Maybe some old sheets. Those would do so nicely in his nest. It wasn't like Geralt would miss them.

He only meant to be in and out quick. He didn't want to linger. 

He should have known the second that he brought that coat up to his nose that he was done for. Jaskier sighed, touching the leather to his cheek. It hadn't been worn recently, the scent was faint. Maybe he should go for the sheets instead...

Jaskier didn't know he had slid the coat on until he was reaching for one of the pillows. It was just so he could free up his hands, he told himself. Surely.

And he only climbed into the bed because his feet were tired. Yes. And it was cold! He didn't want to freeze. And there, surrounded by the thick of it. Jaskier found comfort. As he always had. The tenseness in his body eased away. He sighs, running his hands over the blankets. The bed was long since cold now, but it still bore the memory of him. His witcher.

Jaskier's eyes felt so heavy. Surely he could rest them for just a little while.

And there he was. Still curled up on the witcher's bed hours later. Still wearing his coat. Hugging one of the pillows to his chest. Blankets strewn about. Looking comfy and cozy. 

Geralt had taken to checking on Jaskier every now and then, still trying to find the right words. It proved difficult. He never was good with them. He was far better with his hands. 

When he couldn't find the bard in his chambers and with the place looking a complete wreck, he had gotten a little worried. A little was putting it lightly. He had assumed the worst. He would have stormed the whole stronghold if it weren't for Yennefer.

He saw her first. Standing in his doorway, looking rather amused. When he apprached she said, "There seems to be a bard in your bed, witcher." Yennefer, still here three days later. And the first to find Jaskier like this. 

The relief that flooded him was almost palpable. "I can see that.... Think he's still upset?"

"Course he is. And he's only going to be more so until you actually do something about it. Can't just grunt and 'fuck' your way out of this one, Geralt." She moves aside so he can walk in, keeping a watchful eye on him and Jaskier.

Geralt sets his pack down lightly on the floor, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed so he could start removing his armor.

"So tell me. What is he to you? Truthfully."

Geralt pauses, "Don't see how that's your business, Yennefer."

"He's my friend, course it's my business." Geralt looks up from his laces, cocking a brow. "Funny how things can change when you actually start talking. So. Tell me. What is he to you?"

"Right now he's a bed hog." Yennefer clearly wasn't having that, so he went on, "Jaskier is... someone who is important to me."

The mage sighs, dropping her arms to het sides. "This feels like I'm prying out your teeth."

"Hm."

"Let's try again, shall we?" He'd rather they didn't. "Geralt. Do you love Jaskier?"

Geralt is quiet. For a few moments too long. Jaskier was a friend. A good friend. Geralt just had his own way of expressing it, but he was fond of it. He knew he hadn't exactly treated him fairly before all of this. And it... didn't feel great thinking that Jaskier was assuming he only came around out of a sense of responsibility. That he was only helping him because it was the right thing to do.

"I don't know." He was still trying to wrap his head around it. "I need more time."

Yennefer is beside him now, though it's only so she could lean over and pull the blanket over the still slumbering bard. "Don't take too long to figure it out, Geralt. Or you might lose him altogether."

He knew that. He dreaded the thought. 

The years had passed so quickly when the bard was at his side. Even if he was grating at times and almost always full of himself. It was... nice, having a travel companion. Besides Roach. Geralt had found him missing Jaskier whenever they had to part ways. Back then he would tell himself it was the silence, and that not having the bard there to fill it is what he truly missed.

He's realizing now, as he brushes the hair from Jaskier's face, that that might not be the case.

When Jaskier does eventually wake he discovers with a start that he isn't alone. Geralt lifts his gaze from the carving in his hands. His knife glints in the afternoon light. 

The bard rises slowly, feeling just a smidge embarrassed knowing he'd been caught. "I was just... testing the mattress." He states, running a hand through his hair. He could tell it was a sight. "It's sturdy alright." He clears his throat, patting the space on the bed beside him. "Yep."

Geralt grunts, "And I assume you were just testing that coat as well?"

Jaskier's cheeks blossom in a deep blush. "I... alright fine, you got me. I-I needed some things for my nest." He swings his legs over the side of the bed, avoiding the Witcher's gaze. 

"You could have asked." Jaskier tries not to look too far into the amused chuckle that follows. 

"Did you need something else?"

He glances up, "No... no I don't think so." He still felt so tired. He slowly begins to slip out of the coat. Feeling much too awkward to keep wearing it now.

"Keep it." Geralt grunts, setting his project down somewhere Jaskier cannot see. His knife is tucked away. "For your nest." He adds. "If you'd like I can bring you more."

Jaskier nods, fingers running over the leather. "That would be nice, Geralt."

Later, much later, Jaskier would find more items just outside his door. Things Geralt thought he could use in his nest. Old clothes. Sheets. A blanket or two. And some furs. From animals and beasts he no doubtedly hunted himself. 

All of this and he still wasn't satisfied. "Dammit." He sighs, standing there before his nest looking a mess. It was all he could do for now. He'd figure it out later. 

Something was missing he just didn't know what.

It was all so frustrating. Maybe it was the room altogether. It felt so cold in here. And the stonework wasn't exactly inviting. 

Jaskier rubbed his hands together, sighing as he goes to sit on his bed. Perhaps it was the company. Or lack of. 

Something on the nightstand caught his attention. Funny. He didn't remember leaving such a parcel there. Someone must have snuck it in while he was busy. Probably when he had his face shoved into the furs out of frustration.

Anyways.

If it was in here it was likely meant for him. He lifts the parcel into his lap. It doesn't feel heavy. It has Geralt's scent all over it. "Hm." Jaskier opened the gift carefully. He hoped it was a gift. What else would one call this? 

Dried dandelions. And buttercups too.

"So he really does listen." Jaskier smiles, gingerly picking up one of the flowers. Held together with a leather cord. 

"Go on," he recalls telling him. "Guess my favorite flower." 

"Not in the mood for games, Jaskier."

"Really? Oh fine. You're no fun.... They're dandelions."

"Dandelions."

"Yes, dandelions. They're quite useful, you know. You can eat them, boil the leaves for tea-they just have a rubbish reputation. Stuffy nobles think they're an eyesore." At that point he'd been rambling. On and on he went. "I think they're just dandy... lion."

Geralt of course was not amused in the slightest. Jaskier saw that coming from a mile away.

"And you know what my favorite bit about them is?"

"They're hard to kill?" Now Geralt was participating.

"No no, nothing like that. If you blow on them, they'll grant you a wish."

"Last I checked weeds don't grant wishes."

"As far as you know!"

He stands up to go hang the flowers somewhere, memory still fresh in his mind. He couldn't believe Geralt had remembered. That was so long ago. As he stands, hold loose on the parcel, something falls. "Well that's just great." He takes a step back, eyes scanning the floor for something that was hopefully not broken.

Jaskier stoops down to scoop it up, wrapping the braided cord around his fingers. It's a wooden pendant carved into a wolf's head. One that was all too familiar. Was this what he'd been working on? "Oh, Geralt..." 

Careful thought and consideration was put into this. Time and effort. And a little bit of blood-that was likely his fault. 

Was he crying?

"Blasted," he sniffs, wiping his eyes. "Hormones-Geralt!"

It was a good start at least. 

Jaskier was one of the wolves now.   
\---  
"I've solved your nest issue, Jaskier!" Eskel slams his hand down on the table, almost disturbing the bowl of stew Geralt had made for him. 

Jaskier felt like he was going to burst from all this spoiling and pampering. He thinks Geralt has learned his lesson. And he was starting to feel guilty at this point. As long as the witcher made an effort he'd be happy. He understood it would take some time, for them to figure it out. But in the meantime if he woke up to anymore of this damn venison stew he was going to be sick.

"You have?" Geralt prompts. His arm is wrapped around Jaskier. Now this, this he wasn't sick of.

"Omegas in the north use this fascinating method involving live trees. Where they manipulate the way they grow-" 

Jaskier's eyes light up. "Oh! Eskel you handsome bastard! Why didn't I think of that? You'd think I'd use these fancy abilities of mine more, it's literally part of the plot." 

(Y'all I cannot think of another baby name, please feel free to leave suggestions.)


	10. Soft

Jaskier looks as though he's been completely taken over by blankets and vines at this point. At least he's finally satisfied with his nest. Even if it meant having nature practically overcome his chambers.

"Huh, I can see you're taking the word 'nest' seriously." Lambert comments from the doorway. 

"Well, one does what one must for the sake of comfort." He was spent, and the nest looked so inviting. Eskel thought so as well. Which was precisely why he was passed out somewhere in this mound of furs. Tough hunt, he said. Jaskier would have to have everything washed before the time came. No offense to the beta but he smelled too much of goat.

Lambert approached the best, testing one of the curved branches. Sturdy. "Big enough for you?" 

"I would have felt cramped otherwise, what with the canopy and all." He gestures around, lying back. "Hm, might be onto something though. Could probably fit five witchers and myself included."

"How about you, two witchers, and the white wolf with that big head of his?" Lambert chuckles, glancing around the nest. It looked like he was asking for his permission. 

Jaskier hazard a guess and held a hand out to him. He rolls his eyes as he invites him in. "Might as well." After all, Eskel was already there with him. What was one more?

Later, Geralt would find the three of them sleeping soundly. "Hm."

Not a typical sight at Kaer Morhen. Not by a long shot. He had a feeling that was soon to change. Geralt approaches the nest, and it isn't until he's right in front of it that he notices the wooden talisman Jaskier's sporting. It almost made him feel embarrassed. Yet? Content. 

At least he liked it enough to wear it.   
\---

Jaskier was in a foul mood. Geralt had gone off to search for his child surprise. He wasn't sure if it was the impending fatherhood or what have you that spurred him on, but off he had went. Jaskier was tempted to give his backside a good kick when he returned.

Course, he knew Geralt had left because he wanted to keep the child safe. What with the threat of Nilfgaard and all. He was just worried. Jaskier was so far along now, and Yennefer was busy elsewhere. The two people he wanted to be around most right now were out of his reach.

He still had a little more time to go, so he hoped. That's what his math said anyhow. 

At least Vesemir was allowing his Nana Prim to come around, because it wasn't like they had much experience with delivering children. That put him at ease at least. 

It'd been a few weeks since Geralt left, Jaskier was getting more and more worried as time went on. Lambert and Eskel did their best to reassure him. It did little.

Nana Prim insisted he stay in bed, but he was getting so restless. Cleaning, rearranging, cleaning, dusting-he couldn't keep still. And he wouldn't. Not even as the aching started to set in. He wanted Geralt to be with him so badly. He cried for him.

He knew it was time but he begged and pleaded-"Just a little while longer, just wait." He didn't want to do this without Geralt, but it looked as though the fates had a different plan. 

He could be heard wailing from the other side of the door. Prim wouldn't permit anyone else entrance-which the witchers were mighty pressed about. She needed room to work and couldn't have anyone else fretting about.

"Please," she had told them. "I'll fetch you both once it's over with. For now I suggest keeping yourselves preoccupied." Then she casually mentioned the fresh bread she had baked just moments ago and "may as well not let it go to waste". 

He wanted Geralt. Vesemir had gone off to search for him but who knew how long that would take. He wasn't going to be able to hold on even if he tried. "Never-no more." He hissed through clenched teeth, fingers digging into the mattress beneath him. If Geralt wanted more children he was going to have to do some damn good convincing. 

"Julien, you need to breathe." She soothed, holding onto his hand. 

"WhatdoyouthinkI'mdoing?!" Yes, because the rapid panting was doing him any good. His eyes screwed shut, another contraction. His voice shakes, "They just keep getting closer-Nana, Nana please. Just pull the damnable things out!" He begged, digging crescent moons into her hand. 

"Julien! Everything is going to be fine, please-" 

Jaskier's screaming could be heard all through the stronghold. Not that there was anyone to hear it now.

Moments passed, they felt like hours. He was shaking, trembling so horribly. Coated in sweat. 

And then came the first.

Jaskier strained his ears, heart pounding in his chest. He could barely lift his head. Couldn't even watch Prim trying to urge the newborn into taking a breath. Or cleaning them. She's done this many times, hell, Jaskier's seen her do it. So why did she seem so mechanical now?

"W-what's wrong?" Jaskier's throat is raw. His voice sounds ragged. "What's wrong with my baby?"

She looks up, "She didn't make it." Just like that. She was able to say that without so much as an ounce of hesitation in her voice. No sympathy. There was no sense of care as she wrapped the stillborn up.

"No... no, no, no, no." That became Jaskier's mantra through the broken sobs and cries. "Let me see her-please, let me-"

"You still have another, Julien. Focus."

He thought she was just trying to be strong, so he wouldn't freak out. He was dead wrong.

So terribly, horribly wrong.

His mind raced. Trying to think of anything he could have done wrong. He thought he did everything right. Listened to all of his mother's advice. Made sure he was eating right. So why? Was it him? Something he did? He didn't understand. 

Finally, a cry rings out. He can just barely hear her telling him it's a boy. "Griffin..." Still in a mix of shock and euphoria. And pain. And then confusion when, even after the baby's been cleaned and swaddled, she does not give it up.

"Julien, I know what your mother did." What a time to bring that up. "I know she did it to protect you." She stands up, his baby held in her arms. Squirming. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him. 

"What... what are you saying?"

"Do you know why I left?" No, no he didn't. "It wasn't of my own accord. Your mother, she forced me out." Why would his mother do something like that? "I just couldn't stand seeing that lying whore with the man I loved. It's not your fault, really. But she has to learn."

"Nana... Prim, Prim give me Griffin." Jaskier fights to sit up, arms straining to push himself up. 

"She can't just take something precious away from me and not face the consequences." She turns, looking down at the child. Almost with some sort of pity. She's looking towards the window. He grows cold at the thought. 

Jaskier could use his magic. If he wasn't so weak. And if he wasn't so afraid she'd do something before he could do anything.

"Pretty little omegas have it so easy." She sighs, "All they have to do is spread their legs and hope an alpha comes along. Don't have to lift a finger. Just have to keep popping out pups. That's your fate, Julien."

This woman was delusional. Was she fucking blind? She was there. Right there. She's seen how the earl treated him, and his mother. He'd dwell on that later. Right now this bitch had his baby. He didn't have time to think about what hit her on the head to make her so cracked.

"Nana-"

"Your mother's the worst kind of omega. It wasn't enough to trick him into marrying her, she had to go around and sleep with another man. Your real father. After everything the earl had done for her. And now, well, look at you." 

An odd noise filled the room, and before Jaskier knew it there was a portal opening just behind her. He thought she meant to escape. That was not the case. He found that out quick.

A hand surged forth from the portal, gripping Prim's shoulder. She was frozen to the spot. Unable to move. 

"Yennefer." Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief.

"Can't leave you alone, can I?" The sorceress stepped through the portal, regarding the frozen mage with a scowl. The child in her arms was unharmed. Yennefer was delicate as she extricated the bundle out of her hold. "Knew I had a bad feeling about this wretch." Griffin was squirming like no one's business, she handed him off to a very overwhelmed Jaskier.

The bard held his son, still quivering from the shock of it all. His eyes fall on the still pup laying at the foot of the bed, lump swelling in his throat, "Yennefer, I-"

Her own eyes flick to the mage, a silent but clear rage boiling inside her. "I can't make any promises, but there's something I can try." It had only been a few days since the battle, she should be resting. But she couldn't, something in her knew Jaskier needed help. And it looked like she came in the nick of time.

"Please, anything."

Yennefer picked up his daughter, cold, but not yet stiff. She figured the sooner the better. She took the time to carefully uncover her face. Fine, white hair. And so dreadfully pale. No color to her cheeks, poor thing.

Jaskier watched her with bated breath, Griffin the only source of comfort keeping him calm in this delicate moment. He tried to get as close as he could when Yennefer moved, trying to see just exactly what she was doing. 

He wished he could describe what happened next. His Elder could still use some work. But he was more focused on the still pup in her arms to worry about that.

This took her back to a certain beach. She couldn't do anything for the child then, but she had to try now. For Jaskier.

Jaskier saw Prim's body begin sag, skin loosing its glow. Eyes sinking in. Hair turning gray. It made his stomach churn. He didn't need to be a mage to gather the gist of it. 

An eye for an eye and a life for a life.

Yennefer was persistent, repeating her chant over and over again, relieved tears welling up in her eyes when the child began to stir. When it took its first breath, the frozen mage took her last. Good riddance.

"Oh." Yennefer wiped her eyes, "Fuck, can't believe that worked." Her hands are trembling as she tends to the fussy thing squirming about in her lap. She didn't know how to handle the damn thing. "Here, Jaskier." She was glad to hand it off, helping the bard hold them both against his chest as he laid back.

"Fuck." Jaskier sobbed, kissing each of their heads. "Griffin and..." He looked to the little girl, name finally coming to mind as he laid his eyes on her. "Aster."

"Good then, I'll take care of this old hag. Think she poisoned those two oafs downstairs." Would explain why neither of them came barging in.

"The bread." He realized, "No wonder she was so insistent." 

"Now, where's Geralt? Need to congratulate the bastard. And beat his sorry ass for missing it."

Jaskier chuckled, "In his defense, we thought we had a little longer. Help me into my nest, please."

He's had a long day. A long, terrible, horrible, chaotic day. But it was all worth it in the end.

He couldn't wait for Geralt to finally see them.

(Hello! Updates are going to be slow again since I'm off of vacation! And here's a friendly reminder that if you'd like to support me I do have a ko-fi: GoodieGhost I think there's only a few more chapters left, but if you'd like you can leave requests for future chapters, slice of life stuff! :3 )


	11. End

When the dust had settled Jaskier found himself all nice and cozy in his nest, the twins sleeping soundly beside him. Though what woke him was less than pleasant. A commotion at the door. Getting a little too loud for his tastes.

Yennefer was there, hand firm on the handle as she stares Lambert in the eye. By now whatever Prim had given them had worn off, and though the witchers were still groggy the panic of Jaskier's labor had been motive enough to send them straight to his door. Real keen on being able to see him too. 

"He'll see you when he's good and ready." Yennefer tells them. "He needs to rest."

Jaskier lifts his head, eyes still heavy. He can sense their stress from where he lay. And as much as he would love to show off his children and quell their worries-he was not presentable. And he was exhausted. Sensitive. The only two people he wanted here right now were Geralt and Yennefer. 

"I'm alright." He manages to say, "I'm in good hands."

He can recognize Lambert's hand on the door frame, no longer forcing it open. There's a wash of relief once the witchers hear his voice. 

"Yeah, we thought that before. Great bunch of good that did." Lambert knew that mage was no good the second she stepped into the keep. Eskel too. They could feel it. First they thought they were only being paranoid. Now? They were going to be a lot more strict on who they granted access. No more exceptions.

"I'll try not to be offended." Yennefer scoffed, "If you want to know where that foul woman went off to, she's currently feeding Jaskier's plants-"

"Did he kill her?" 

She peered around the alpha, locking her gaze with Eskel. "No." Her grip on the handle tightens, "I did."

Jaskier clears his throat, "You know, if you three wish to continue this conversation you can do so outside my den." Preferably before they woke his children. He laid his head back down, tired eyes narrowed at the doorway.

He only looked away once they left him, letting out a sigh. Good. The last thing he needed now was a headache.

He sighed, looking down at his children. So small. Innocent. Sweet little things. He wished their entry had been a little more peaceful, but at least they were both healthy. And now beginning to stir, it seemed. "Oh no." He gently pulled Griffin close, smoothing a hand over his soft cheek. 

"Come here..." He cooed, comforting the newborn as he began to hiccup. Maybe he was hungry? 

Trying to find a comfortable way to nurse was awkward and time consuming. But once it was all said and done-except it wasn't because Aster decided right then to wake as well. So he had to repeat the process.

He discovered a few things.

He knew babies eyes tended to change color as they grew. Mostly from blue and what not. But he was for sure certain that Griffin was going to be stuck with his. And for one reason only. They were milky white. 

Pine's words turned out to bear more truth than he thought. So if Griffin was blind, then perhaps that meant Aster couldn't speak. They'd find out later on down the line.

He'll find a way for her to communicate, and teach it to them both. And himself. Geralt too-hell everyone in the keep.  
\--

It was a good week until Vesemir returned. Geralt and his child surprise with him. Yennefer was the first to fill him in-and chew him out. But once she found out why he had taken so 'damn bloody long' she was a little more forgiving. He was still recovering after all.

She'd been helping Jaskier take care of the pups and was more than eager to catch the witcher's reaction. "Think it best you see them right away. If Jaskier finds out your here he'll come find you himself." And she rather have him rest a little while longer.

Ciri felt as though she just stepped into a great big thing. Who knew all this would be going on when they found each other? Certainly not her. It was a lot to wrap her head around.

Jaskier had long since drew back the curtains in his room. Letting in some much needed light. His children were fed and now taking a much needed rest. Sleep and eat. That's all they knew to do. Well, that and soil themselves.

He had a feeling once they got to the moving about stage they'd be a handful.

When he heard the door open behind him he glanced back, his entire face lighting up at his white wolf. "Ger-" he started, much too loudly. He continued, more softly. "Geralt!" He strode towards him, wrapping him up in his arms and rubbing his cheek against every available inch of his person. "Oh you're back-it's felt like ages-try not to do that again."

Geralt chuckled, leaning into Jaskier. He drops his face into the crook of his neck and sighs. "They just couldn't wait, could they?" He's amused, to say the least, peering over at the two infants. Both sleeping soundly in Jaskier's nest. 

"They couldn't." Jaskier pulls back, kissing his cheek. "You look horrible. Lie down. You can tell me everything." He ushers him over to the nest, climbing in himself. Though Geralt hesitates. He doesn't want to disturb them. He feels so big and they're so tiny. "Come on. Think they've missed you too."

Geralt is still so hesitant as he makes his way into the nest, eyes not once straying from either of the twins. He settles down as much as he can, despite feeling so stiff. When one of them begins to stir he grows still, watching in alarm as Jaskier casually scoops the child into his arms and sighs.

"You won't break them. Come now... Geralt, this is Griffin." He smiles his way, brushing dark hair away from that little face. "Your son."

His son.

Geralt felt pride swell in his chest. Eyes stinging. He wished he had been there for Jaskier. But he couldn't change that now. All he could do was do his best to be a father to his pups. 

When Jaskier begins to move the child into his arms, however, the panic comes bubbling back up. "Jaskier-" his voice chokes, now cradling little Griffin against his battered armor. Jaskier shows him how best to support his head. "His eyes-"

"I know." Jaskier sighs, "All we can do is wait and see, Geralt." He leans over, resting his cheek on his shoulder. It's funny. He's been resting all this time and yet this is the only time he's felt so relaxed. "Griffin and Aster. One boy, one girl." He smiles. 

"Didn't think I'd be having three children in the span of a month."

Jaskier blinked, lifting his head. "Oh-so you've found her?" Honestly he was relieved. He heard about Cintra. And the queen. "Poor thing's lost so much, glad she has you now at least."

Geralt nudges his side, "She has us."

And something about that makes him smile. "Us? If this is your way of proposing I implore you to find better timing." He teases, tucking some hair behind his ear and chuckling when the witcher's eyes widen. "I'm teasing. And I'm happy to have her with us."

Jaskier brings Aster into his arms when she too begins to stir-much more rowdy than her brother. He murmurs something quietly, shirt slipping down his shoulder. "This is going to be a lot for her to take in though, don't you think?" Nursing came so naturally to him now that he wasn't even bothered by it. "... Geralt?"

And there's the stare. "... Tits." The witcher was more amused than anything. Yes, he knew some men had tits. Just as some women did not. And those who were both or neither did or did not as well-he just wasn't expecting them on Jaskier. 

"Geralt!"

He was expecting that blush, however. He chuckles, leaning over to catch Jaskier in a kiss. "They look good on you."

"Geralt of Rivia-I'm going to undo all your boot laces if you keep on-"

"Dandelion." Now that, that really made his cheeks light up. "Be quiet." He touches their foreheads together, practically able to feel the heat radiating off the bard. "You're beautiful." He breathes, kissing him once more.

"Oh you're insufferable..." Jaskier huffs, lips pursed. "And a liar. I know I look a sight, Geralt. As do you. And gods, look at you. Still as ruggedly handsome as ever."

Geralt rolls his eyes, sighing, "You've got a glow about you, lark. You've always had it. Even back in Posada. I can see it now."

He tucks his face in the crook of Jaskier's neck, teeth nipping at him. A promise. "And I don't think I ever want to miss it again."

"Geralt..."

\--  
In the end, quite a bit after the twins were born, the bard and his witcher did become bonded. 

Jaskier did his best to connect with Ciri. Though it was a tad awkward at the start. Jaskier was only good with his own children, it seemed. The two did eventually form a tight bond themselves. He was excited to teach her how to play the lute.

Yennefer would visit from time to time, bearing gifts for each child. As well as wisdom and advice for Ciri-at least until the twins were old enough to speak.

Correction, until Griffin could speak.

During one of her visits Yennefer brought them a detailed book. Depicting a way of communicating without need of voice. Or constantly carrying a book and quill around.

Jaskier was excited to learn, and Ciri learned alongside with him. Both taking turns showing the rest of the wolf pack.

Over the years, when the twins expressed interest in witcher training-no doubt curious from all the lessons Ciri told them about-Jaskier was... a little worried. He didn't want them to get hurt.

But.

But, he trusted Geralt to train them well. If they did decide to go down that path.

The twins were incredibly close, never leaving each other's side. Griffin always hanging on to Aster. Whether it be her sleeve or her hand-sometimes even one of her braids.

Nothing would separate these two. 

They shared everything.

And one day when they were around say, four or five, Jaskier caught Griffin doing something peculiar. He was watching the skies. With Aster sitting right beside him. The act alone wasn't what caught Jaskier off guard though. It was his eyes, bright and piercing yellow. Just like his fathers. 

"Griffin?" Jaskier knelt down in front of his child, looking between them both. Griffin's hand came out to touch his face, as he usually did. 

"Papa...?" Came a quiet voice. One he's never heard. Aster squeezed her brother's other hand, now opening her own eyes. And when Jaskier did not see the brilliant blues that they shared he gasped.

"What... how did this happen?" he asked them quietly, reaching a hand out for Aster to grab hold of. 

"I..." She couldn't form the words, she's heard them plenty of times and seen they way they were formed. But that was vastly different than trying to pronounce them herself. So she took her hands away, holding them out in front of her so she could spell them out in a way she knew how.

"You... you thought it'd be nice to share? Darlings, that's so sweet of you both." Jaskier didn't even know what was going on. How this could have happened. "Come now, why don't we show your father? And you can tell us all about this new trick."

They never figured out how the two managed to figure out how to do something like this. When Yennefer found out she was thrilled at the possibilities. Sharing your senses was tricky-swapping them completely was another. And for two so young to pull it off-granted their bond had to have helped greatly. No doubt their mutant status as well.

Nonetheless, Yennefer was proud. As were their parents. 

They did, in fact, share everything.

(Eyyyyy it's done! I'm probably gonna do some short epilogue-esque chapters in the future. Lil drabbles n such. If you have anything you want to see feel free to leave a comment!


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